


Count to Ten

by marinstan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Ron Weasley, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Forced Prostitution, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Slow Burn, Teacher Harry Potter, pansy/draco friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan
Summary: In the blink of an eye, bullies can turn into victims, lovers into strangers and enemies into loved ones.Be prepared for good friends, heartbreak and quiet love.UPDATED REGULARLY - THE STORY IS COMPLETELY FINISHED
Relationships: Brief Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 45
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the tags! Nothing is described very graphicly, yet the topics are rather dark and disturbing.  
> Still, there is as much fluff as there is angst, so don't worry - good times are coming if you're patient.
> 
> Happy reading!

I count to ten.

My head is floating in higher spheres, above my body. I can't feel my limbs.

Almost there.

I count to ten.

The idle thought crosses my mind if this is what dying feels like. But that wouldn't make sense.

I'm already dead, am I not?

I count to ten.

But I only make it to eight. A loud bang cuts through the veil hanging over my brain. Shouts. Heavy footsteps.

I close my eyes.

„Oh, fuck.“

It's said in a different cadence than usually.

I get back to counting, trying to draw the veil up again.

„We need backup.“

I think there are new hands on my body, but I can't be sure. It doesn't matter.

I count to ten.

* * *

„Okay. Okay, so you're just leaving now. Cool. Fucking great,“ I say and stare at Ginny's back.

She turns around, annoyance written over her face with permanent marker. „I've got practice. I told you that a million times before.“

„Yeah, well – it would just be nice to maybe see you from time to time. Just to catch up, you know.“

I know I'm being a prick, but I can't stop myself.

Brown eyes narrow at me. Firey hair seems electrified. „Stop being such a baby, Harry.“

With that, she slams the door shut. I swallow and lean against the kitchen counter.

My girlfriend is going to be the Harpie's next shooting star. I need to stop – _this_. I need to stop being insufferable.

With a sigh, I rub my neck and then point my wand at the coffee machine to refill the water tank. Ginny doesn't drink coffee because it upsets her stomach, but I developed a serious addiction to the dark liquid.

I take sips from my favorite cup and look around the empty apartment. An apartment for two, which has eventually grown into an apartment for one.

Which is fine. Ginny needs to practise and fly as often as possible if she wants to make it.

I clean the dishes and listen to the Saturday morning radio and pretend that it's not the same as killing time.

Ron's patronus startles me.

„Dinner at my place tonight?“ the terrier asks and I smile.

„Sure thing,“ I tell my silvery visitor.

I spend the day cleaning the house and buying flowers and Ginny's favorite chocolates, before flooing over to Ron and Hermoine's.

With Ron's rocketing Auror career, they were able to afford a very nice apartment near the Ministry, which Hermoine transformed into her personal library.

„Harry!“ Hermione smiles widely and gives me a hug.

She's wearing her comfy at-home-clothes, but there are some lipstick remains on her mouth and her hair is shiny and smoother than usually.

„Good to see you,“ I say and mean it, while Ron pats my back. His smile seems a little distracted to me.

„I'll get the wine?“ I ask and busy myself with filling three glasses while my friends set the table.

„What's that?“ Ron asks, peering into the pot.

„Stew,“ Hermoine says, a little clippedly.

I bite my lip.

Both of them hate to cook. And they're also both not good at it. I've sat through enough home cooked dinners to be an adequate judge.

„That's nasty, Hermione,“ Ron says after the first bite.

Hermione drops her spoon. Stew is splashing on the table. „I told you I didn't want to cook,“ she says, eyes very bright.

„I've cooked last night.“

They glare at each other.

„I don't think it's that bad,“ I lie.

„You're charming, Harry,“ Hermione says and takes a sip from her wine.

Ron rolls his eyes.

We're eating in tense silence until I ask: „How's work?“

Ron's nose scrunches just a little. There is a twitch around his mouth. „Terrible, actually.“

Hermione sets her glass down and looks at him. „What happened?“

Ron hesitates, turning the spoon in his hand.

„I'm not really allowed to tell you,“ he says.

„We won't talk,“ I assure him.

Curiosity is gnawing at me.

„You'll know soon enough. Tomorrow, probably.“

„Well, then you can tell us today already,“ Hermione says.

Ron stares at his stew. „We raided a... well. Whorehouse, I guess. Yesterday.“

„Oh.“ Hermione's eyes are full of sympathy. She reaches out and squeezes Ron's hand.

„That must have been hard,“ she says.

„It was bloody awful.“ There is this hard set to Ron's mouth that always appears when he's shocked to his core. „It was one of those gangs that – you know. Trafficking. It's basically slavery.“

We've all stopped eating.

„I'm sorry, man,“ I say.

„They only had former Death Eaters and such and I thought maybe that would make it – not _better_ , maybe easier to bear. But – no. It was horrible. I don't think I'll ever -“

He trails off and grits his teeth, looking at the ceiling.

„Ron.“ Hermione's voice is quiet. She pets his shoulder.

I feel slightly sick.

„What happens to the victims now?“ Hermione asks.

„That's the worst part. We don't know. We just – don't know. Most of their families are in Azkaban. Some don't talk. Some are sick. None of them really has a life to come back to. Or, well – most of them don't.“

We're quiet for a long while.

„They'll probably all end up in a psych ward.“ Ron's voice sounds hollow.

„You just need a place to stay for them?“ I ask.

An idea is forming in my head. A mad one.

Ron looks at me. „I mean, not just. But yeah. That's the main part.“

„What about Grimmauld Place?“

Both my friends stare at me as if I'd have lost it.

„Mate, that's basically your office,“ Ron says.

„I don't need all the rooms. I mean, it wouldn't be permanent, right?“

„No. Only until they're ready to find their own places. The Ministry plans on supporting them.“

I shrug. „I wouldn't mind having them there. There's enough room and as long as they don't disturb my lessons, it'll be fine.“

Ron blinks at me. „That's – yeah. I'll think about it. And talk to the others.“

With a smile at me, Ron picks up his spoon.

It turns out that, surprisingly, I'm not the only one offering housing for former Death Eaters. There are some extended relatives, some good-people and some that are secretly looking for cheap workers, that are willing to take the victims in as well.

„We've got two left,“ Ron tells me and I know already that it's going to be uncomfortable.

„One because no one wanted him and one because she didn't want to leave her friend.“

„Okay. I'll take them.“ I'm nervous. My hands are rubbing over my jeans.

„Wait until I tell you who it is,“ Ron says.

„Who is it?“

Ron looks me in the eyes.

„Draco Malfoy. And Pansy Parkinson.“

„You're kidding.“

„Nope. I understand if you'll say no now, but...“

„But?“

„You wouldn't recognize Malfoy. He doesn't even talk. It wouldn't – he wouldn't try anything. I don't think he'd be capable.“

My chest feels tight. „Oh.“

„Yeah.“

„What happened to him?“

Ron huffs out a small breath. „Bad things, Harry. I don't – I don't like to think about it. I don't want to believe what some people are capable of.“

„Okay.“

My heart is pounding hard now.

„So?“

„I'll take them. I've got the rooms set up already.“

„Good. I've told them that you're giving lessons almost every day and that they're not to disturb you. And I think it would be good if you told them not to – you know. Run into your kids.“

I frown at Ron. „Why? They're not – are they, like, deformed?“

„No, but they're all not dealing very well with strangers. And they could frighten the younger kids. But mostly, I don't want your older students to make fun of them.“

I look at Ron for a long moment.

This is the guy that hated Malfoy with every cell of his being. It's the one who laughed about Malfoy being tossed around as a ferret and punched him in the face after we've saved him during the Battle.

And now he says he doesn't want my students to make fun of him.

„Alright. I'll talk to them.“

„They have meetings with a therapist scheduled weekly. And if – you know, if it becomes too much, you can always kick them out.“

My hands are sweating as I wait on my couch in the living room for Ron to arrive with whom I've decided to call my guests.

I cancelled all my lessons for today and made sure there's food and coffee in the house. An attempt to feel prepared. In vain, I might add.

I jump when the doorbell rings, heart in my throat.

„Hey, mate.“ Ron's smile is a little too bright.

„Hi.“ I step aside.

My gaze wanders from Ron to my visitors.

The first one I see is Parkinson. She's as short and dark-haired as she's always been. But paler now. Thinner.

I have to crane my neck and lead them in further before I catch a glimpse of Draco Malfoy.

For a split second, my heart just stops.

He seems a little shorter than I remember him. Maybe that means I've grown taller. Or it's just due to the slump of Malfoy's shoulders. His almost white hair isn't slicked back. It falls loose around his face, covering his eyes. It looks like a child had cut it. Maybe he did it himself.

All the while my eyes are on him, he doesn't look up once.

„Um, hi,“ I say again. „Nice to see you all.“

I want to kick my own ass. I'm so bad at this.

„Hello. Thank you for taking us in,“ Parkinson says, her voice surprisingly clear. She takes a step forward and holds out her hand.

I blink and shake it. „No problem,“ I say. „I'll give you a tour, yeah?“

„That would be nice,“ the Slytherin says.

I peer at Malfoy, but he keeps looking at the floor.

„I'll be off, then,“ Ron says.

He turns to Parkinson and Malfoy. „You both have my floo address. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me.“

„We will. Thank you,“ Parkinson says and Ron nods curtly, then pats my back and slides through the door.

I swallow. „Okay, so. Here's the living room. There's the kitchen...“

They follow me like ducklings. Their steps are quiet.

„You can take anything you want. And here's a list for groceries. I'm not sure if – I mean, you're free to go whereever you like, of course. But I can go shopping too. Just – yeah. Tell me what you'd prefer.“

Parkinson nods.

I quickly rush through the rooms I teach in. „I give lessons Tuesday to Friday and sometimes Saturday too. I think it would be better if you stayed away from my students. They're all nice, of course, but – it might disturb classes,“ I say.

Parkinson nods again.

„Okay. Cool.“

The stairs creak as I lead them to the second floor. „So, those are your rooms. We have two bathrooms on this floor. You can also use the one on the first floor if there are no lessons. I thought you could pick your own bedroom. There are four that are free.“

„Thank you – a lot. If there is anything we can do for you, just let us know,“ Parkinson says.

I interpret her hesitation after the _Thank You_ the right way.

„You can call me Harry. Or Potter, if that's better. I don't really care.

„Alright,“ Parkinson says, her fingers restless.

„Look, if you need anything – just ask. I'm not really sure, how – well. Just talk to me. I'm sure we can arrange something.“

Parkinson smoothes down her hair. Malfoy looks at the floor.

He's so thin. He's always been on the slimmer side, but not like this. His elbows have never been this knobbly. His stomach seems to stick out more than his chest, his thighs are barely thicker than my arms (and my arms really aren't that impressive).

„Okay. I'll let you get settled then.“

„Do you live here, too?“ Parkinson asks me.

„Oh. No. I have an apartment. But I'm here quite a lot for teaching. And – here. I have this for you.“

I hand her a galleon. She stares at me as if I'd have just -

„I mean – that's for communication,“ I explain hastily.

I turn to Malfoy and hold out my hand. It takes him a moment to register that I'm trying to give him something. He takes the coin from me, cautiously. Then drops his arm again.

„If you tap against it three times, my own coin will get hot and I know that you want to see me.“

„That is a very nice piece of magic,“ Parkinson comments.

„It was Hermione's invention,“ I say, smiling at the memories of the DA.

„She's always been the smartest of us.“

For the first time since they've arrived, a pang of annoyance shoots through me.

„Says the one telling her she's got rabbit teeth.“

Parkinson pales. „I didn't mean to be disrespectful,“ she says.

I look at her. Look at Malfoy.

My stomach turns.

„It's fine,“ I say because I don't know what else there is I could say.

I expected that Ginny wouldn't think of my new subtenants as a good idea. I did not expect her to throw a fit when I tell her.

„I didn't mean to upset you with that,“ I say.

She stares daggers at me, still sweaty from practice. „Taking in Malfoy and Parkinson like stray dogs? That damn well upsets me.“

„Look, I'm not doing that because I like them so much. But they have nowhere else to go.“

„And you think I'd care about that – why, exactly?“

I frown. „Ginny, they've been through hell. Malfoy is mute now. Parkinson – pretends to have it together, but I think she'd say anything, do anything, so I don't kick them out. They're... done.“

„They're not your problem, Harry.“ She gives me a tired look. „You don't have to save them. Some people don't deserve saving.“

I meet her eyes. „It's not about saving them any longer. It's about leaving them to die or giving them a chance.“

Ginny throws her hands up. „Fine! Whatever. Do what you want.“

I swallow. My heart is pounding. I can see the necklace I gave Ginny for her twenty-first birthday on the desk in the hallway. She always takes it off for practice.

„Why are you always so cross with me lately?“ I ask her.

The air seems to leave Ginny. She slowly lets her hair down. „I don't know, Harry. I just – I feel like you're not giving me...“

„What? What am I not giving you?“

„You're trying too hard. Things shouldn't be this hard.“

I cross my arms. „We've been together for more than three years. It's normal that things change.“

„But you're always – I don't know. I can't do this right now.“

She turns away and heads to the bathroom.

I listen to the shower running and wonder what on earth I've done wrong.

* * *

The bed at Grimmauld Place is big and too soft and smells just a little bit like old people.

I can't fall asleep. There are shadows lurking and I have nothing to shut them out with.

I count to ten. Then to a hundred.

My heart is pounding. I want to go to Pansy's room, but I'm not sure I'm allowed to. Potter said he doesn't live here and I know he left earlier, but who says he didn't come back? Who says no one else is here?

I can't leave this room.

I count to ten until the sun rises.

The bathroom is so big that I don't know what to do with it. There is a bath tub too.

I find myself looking at it for way too long, before pinching my forearm and slinking into the shower.

It's been a while since I've had a shower this good. I decide to seize the opportunity and clean myself properly. Most clients like that better.

I certainly do.

„Draco?“

When I step out into the hallway in my clothes from yesterday, Pansy approaches me. Her hair is wet and even though she looks tired, she seems to have slept a little.

I know what Pansy looks like after a sleepless night.

„The shower is brilliant,“ she says and takes my hand.

I nod lightly.

„I'm not sure when Potter comes back. But I'm starving though.“ She heads to the stairs and I follow her dumbly – until we actually reach it.

„What is it?“

I don't want to go downstairs.

This floor is empty. No one's here. It has a great shower and an okay bed. I don't want to leave this floor.

„We're alone, Draco. No one will be downstairs. And Potter said we can eat. I'm fucking starving.“

She swallows and I give in. I know she is and I hate it.

I hate seeing Pansy hungry all the time. I hardly notice hunger anymore, but I know she does.

Still, I almost faint on my way downstairs. My heart is hammering in my ribcage and it feels like my veins might burst.

I want some Dreamscales. But I guess this is another period in my sorry life when I won't get any.

I cling to Pansy's hand and she leads me into a kitchen that looks as if no one had used it in quite a while.

„We've got toast and jam.“

Pansy rips the package open and has wolfed down two slices before I've even lifted one to my mouth.

„Eat, Draco,“ she says in her commanding voice.

I do. It tastes like nothing, but the faintess in my bones starts to fade with every bite.

„There is a coffee machine,“ Pansy says.

I've noticed it, too.

Coffee. I love coffee. I remember that.

„It's turned off though,“ Pansy muses. „Do you think...?“

I shake my head. She sighs. „Better not risk it.“ She fishes for another slice of toast and spreads jam on it.

„They said we're free now, you know,“ she tells me, looking at the piece of bread in her hand.

I shrug half-heartedly.

I don't listen to anyone but Pansy anymore. Many men talk a lot. They talk and talk and talk and I know now that words mean nothing.

There have been men before that seemed to love fucking my body so much, they wanted to take me away. They've told me they'd come back and save me and keep me.

No one did.

I was never sure if I should be sad or relieved.

Ultimately, it didn't matter.

„I know. But I think this time is different,“ Pansy says.

She's gotten very good at reading my face.

I shake my head. She sighs again.

„We'll see.“

Seeing Potter again is a shock.

I mostly stare at his boots and try to block out what he says, but once, I glance up when I'm sure he's not looking. I get a glimpse of messy hair and a new pair of glasses.

I wonder if he does this for revenge. I wish he'd just get on with it. If there is one thing I hate, it's waiting.

Not to say I'm bad at it. I've been waiting for the past... well, couple years (I don't even know what year it is) and I've become very patient.

But that doesn't mean I _like_ it.

Pansy tugs at my hand. „He has a lesson now. We should better stay upstairs.“

I ascend the stairs with her and try not to be afraid. It never does anything good. Being afraid only makes everything worse. It means you suffer before you really suffer.

And yet, I always am.

Always waiting.

I hear the front door open and then there are voices and heavy steps and I curl into a ball on the floor, press my forehead against my knees. Pansy next to me is breathing shallowly. She's afraid, too.

If they come in, I'll uncurl. Maybe I'll even manage a smile.

Often, people prefer me over Pansy. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it's the hair.

Or maybe there are so many men that will never, ever admit they might want to fuck a guy – never, except for when they're with a whore – that they can't help but jump the opportunity.

The worst thing for me is watching people hurt Pansy.

It's not much worse than being in the hands of several men at once. But a little.

I think I can make out Potter's voice. Steps are coming up the stairs.

I stop breathing and listen.

„I really need to work on that, Professor.“

I count to ten.

A door falls shut. No one comes up the last flight of stairs.

We wait.

„I think they're really hear for lessons,“ Pansy finally says.

I'm not sure I believe it. Maybe they'll come in afterwards.

You never know.

* * *

„How was your first day?“

Both Parkinson and Malfoy seem exhausted when I find them upstairs after lessons are finished for the day.

They jump when I enter the room, even though I knocked. I feel like an intruder.

Parkinson catches herself and gives me a smile. „Very good, thank you.“

I nod. My hands shoved in my pockets. Malfoy won't look at me.

„Um, so – I won't be here for dinner, but I can order you something? Or cook. But then I'd have to go grocery shopping first. I think I'll have to do that anyway though. So – yeah. Do you want anything?“

Parkinson looks at Malfoy.

I've seen her take his hand before. Once, Malfoy nodded at something she said.

So he listens. At least sometimes.

I really want to get him to look at me.

„I – I'm fine with anything,“ Parkinson says.

It's rather difficult, trying to help someone that doesn't communicate what they want at all. „I could cook pasta with meatballs?“

I can't read Parkinson's face when she tells me that would be very nice of me.

I sigh internally. „Anything else I can get you?“

Malfoy is staring at the ground. I think his lips are moving.

Parkinson looks at him as well. „Um, if it isn't too much trouble...“

Her fingers are twitching.

„Not at all,“ I say, not even knowing what she wants.

„A little bit of fruit would be nice,“ she finally says.

„Oh. Yeah, sure. Good idea. I'll get you some. Any preferences?“

Parkinson glances at Malfoy again.

So this is for him, then.

My question seems to have been too much. Parkinson's eyes are darting around the room, her fingers moving restlessly.

„I'll just get a bit of everything,“ I say.

I'm late to my dinner with Ron and Hermione after the bulk purchase I did.

Grimmauld's kitchen is now stocked with bananas and apples and kiwis and also some sweets and a few instant meals, in case my guests get hungry before dinner.

My pasta dish with meat balls doesn't take long, but it's still after nine p.m. when I finally arrive at the diner. To my surprise, Hermoine is alone.

„Ron had to work,“ she explains.

One look into her face has me asking: „What's wrong?“

She swallows. „Let's order first.“

She makes me tell her about the Slytherins and my grocery shopping before I say:

„Okay, Hermione. What's up? You look horrible.“

She takes a deep breath and puts her cutlery down. „I'm pregnant.“

My mouth falls open and I hastily close it, so I won't gross Hermione out.

I'm not quite sure what the appropriate reaction to these news is.

„Um... wow. Okay. Did you – did you try, or...?“

„Of course we didn't try. I'd have told you that.“ Her fingers are shaking slightly.

„Oh. Yeah. Okay, um... shit?“

She laughs. Her voice trembles. „Yes.“

„Does Ron know?“

„Not yet.“

„Okay. Um, so... how do you feel about it?“

Hermione wraps her arms around herself.

„Bad.“ She bites her lip. Tears are shimmering in her eyes.

„Hermoine, I'm so sorry.“

„Something must have gone wrong with the protection spells,“ she says, her voice breaking a little.

„That happens.“

„Well. It doesn't make it better.“

I take a chance. „You know, if you didn't want it – I wouldn't judge you for it. It's your decision.“

The tears are spilling now, leaving wet streaks on her cheeks.

„Hermione.“ My heart is breaking a little and I reach for her. Pet her arm, not knowing what to do.

„I can't believe this happened. And I hate – I hate thinking about it. I mean, I'm twenty-two, I should... it's not too early for kids, is it? I'm a grown woman. I just...“

„It's okay not to want any,“ I say.

I know that I could never. Have an abortion, that is. Not that I could get pregnant in the first place.

But I also know that Hermione doesn't want to have children. She always said she'd never want any before thirty.

„I feel horrible,“ she says, hiding her face in her hands.

„Don't. It's not your fault.“

„It is though, isn't it? At least half of it.“

I don't know what to say.

„Do what you think is right.“

„Nothing feels right,“ she says, voice muffled through her hands.

I hesitate.

„I think you should talk to Ron about it.“

Hermione sniffles and looks at the ceiling.

„Ron will want to have it.“

I can't object. I know he will.

„You have to talk to him either way. I mean, it's your decision – but he has the right to say his opinion. And to know about it.“

„I know,“ she says. „I'm just scared.“

„I get it.“ I squeeze her hand.

„It's all going to be fine,“ I say.

She swallows and gives me a watery smile.

„Would you hate me? If I had an abortion.“

„Of course not.“

„I know you're not for it. You think it's wrong.“

I think about it for a moment.

„I don't think it's wrong. I think it can be right for some people and it's a very personal choice. I just know that I, personally, wouldn't want to have one. But I have issues, so,“ I shrug and smile.

„How far are you?“ I ask.

„Not far. Second week.“

„Well, then you have time to think about it.“

„Yes,“ she whispers.

„It's going to be fine,“ I say.

When I get back to Grimmauld Place the next morning, I startle my new lodgers at breakfast. Parkinson drops a slice of toast and Malfoy almost chokes on a piece of kiwi.

„Sorry,“ I say, grimacing.

„It's fine.“ But Parkinson looks faint.

„Slept well?“ I ask, feeling clumsy and awkward and distracted.

My best friend just told me she's pregnant.

„Yes, thank you,“ Parkinson says.

I look at her and suddenly realize I'm an idiot.

„Oh, shit. You don't have clothes.“

Why didn't Ron say anything about that? They've been wearing the same clothes since they've arrived.

Malfoy and Parkinson exchange a look. Seeing that Malfoy has actually listened momentarily throws me. The look though seems alarmed to me. I'm not sure what they're thinking of, but it's certainly nothing good.

„Do you maybe want to come with me? I mean – I don't really know what clothes to buy for you.“

I rub my neck.

There is a long pause.

„I can come with you. If you like,“ Parkinson says cautiously.

Malfoy is gripping the table.

„Malfoy?“

He doesn't seem able to meet my eyes, but at least he turns his head. After a moment, he makes to stand. My heart clenches.

„You don't have to come with us. Only if you want.“

He looks at Parkinson.

„If you don't mind, I think... I'll pick something for Draco,“ Parkinson says.

„Yeah. Sure.“

Going shopping with Pansy Parkinson makes it under the top ten of the strangest experiences of my life.

At first, it's almost unbearable. She follows me and I have no fashion sense whatsoever.

„Why don't you pick something?“ I ask her, on the verge of a mental breakdown.

She looks at me. Her eyes are almost black and her lashes stark against her pale skin.

„I don't know what you want me to pick,“ she says.

It sounds like an admission.

I blink at her. „I don't – you should pick whatever you like. I don't care what you're wearing.“

Parkinson hesitates.

I feel the need to make something clear.

„You know that you don't belong to me, right? You just live with me to – because you need a place to stay. A place to heal. But I'm not... I'm just helping you. You make the decisions. If you wanted to, you could move out tomorrow.“

Parkinson blinks at me. Her eyes are searching my face.

„I don't have money to move out,“ she finally says.

„Yeah, I know. But I could help you get a job.“

She's still looking at me. „Why are you doing this?“

I go for honesty. „I'm not really sure. I guess I felt bad for you. I know what it feels like not to have a home.“

Parkinson frowns. „It's difficult for me to believe that you're just doing this to be nice.“

I run the fabric of a shirt through my fingers.

„Well, I guess it also gives me purpose. But I'm not like you. I usually don't think things through.“

I try for a smile at her. The corners of her mouth twitch.

„Clearly.“ She turns back to the rack.

„I like this one,“ she says.

I take her out to lunch when we're done.

Over bowls of salad, I ask: „Why doesn't Malfoy talk?“

Parkinson plays with her fork, stabbing a leaf of lettuce.

„It's his way to protect himself.“

„But how does not voicing his opinion protect him?“

She looks up at me. „No one has cared about our opinion for years now. It's easier just not to give anything away. It's easier to shut it all out.“

I swallow. „Since when is he like that?“

„I'm not sure, it's hard to keep track of time. About a year?“

„He hasn't talked in a year?“

„I think so.“

It's hard to wrap my head around it. „How is it that he's so much...“ I'm looking for a word. Don't find one. „Worse than you are?“

Parkinson's eyes dart at me, then away. „For one, Draco and I are different people, Potter. We deal with things differently. But Draco had it harder than me too.“

She looks away.

„How?“

I can see the tendons in her neck.

„He used to protect me. He still does, in his own way.“

It takes me a moment to realize that Parkinson is fighting for composure.

„If you want to talk about what happened...“

She shakes her head.

„I'd rather forget.“


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Potter visits, Pansy is in the shower. I fight the urge to shut my eyes and start counting out loud as he approaches me. It was stupid to wait for Pansy in the kitchen.

„I've brought you something,“ he says and even though his voice doesn't match the voices I'm used to, I panic.

It takes me a lot to lift my head. Potter holds out a bowl with berries. I'm not sure I know those.

„They're called gooseberries,“ he says. „I thought you might like them.“

I don't know what to do. No one has bought me something because they genuinely thought I might like it in forever.

Maybe Potter needs me to trust him for whatever he has planned with me. Maybe he gets off on fucking me over like that. He keeps looking at me and I conclude he won't go away until I try one.

Tentatively, I reach for a berry.

Potter seems to sense that his eyes on me make me beyond uncomfortable, because he doesn't look at me when I push the berry into my mouth. It makes a little pop as my teeth crush the skin and it tastes... a little like kiwi and blueberries. A little bit like cherries.

Potter was right. I do like gooseberries.

„You like them?“ he asks and he sounds like his happiness depends on my answer.

This question is an easy one. It's obvious which answer he wants to hear. It also happens to be the truth, which is rare.

I nod and I think Potter smiles.

„You can have all of them. I can buy more.“

I don't know what to do.

„Are you – did you eat breakfast yet?“

I'm really not sure I want Potter watching me having breakfast, but it's quite obvious that I haven't eaten yet. No dirty dishes in the sink. He might get mad if I lie. So I shake my head.

„Me neither. I can make something. Do you like eggs?“

I used to. I haven't had them in forever.

I nod and Potter turns and starts making eggs.

With his back to me, I finally lift my gaze.

Potter hasn't changed much since Hogwarts, except for the new glasses. His clothes are still ratty, even though I'm sure he has enough money to wear the finest robes to bed if he wanted to.

A pang of something strange shoots through me at the sight of him. Something hurtful. Something that belongs to the old Draco. A Draco that had two parents, one that loved him, one that bought him shiny things. A Draco that had a wand and used it to charm his ceiling into the night sky. A Draco that looked at guys and thought of what it would be like to have their bodies moving against his.

But that Draco doesn't exist anymore.

„I hope scrambled is okay.“

I'm not quick enough to lower my gaze and our eyes meet.

Potter's are green. They are very, very green.

I look back at the table.

„For you.“

He sets a plate down in front of me.

I'm really not sure if I can fit all of that in my stomach. I've gotten so used to not eating that my stomach has shrivelled away, shrunken and dried out.

„Oh. Good morning.“

Pansy enters the kitchen. She's wearing new clothes.

It's almost like before.

„Hi.“

Potter serves her some eggs as well and she helps herself to a slice of buttered toast and I slowly lift my fork. The eggs are heavenly. Buttery and fluffy and just right.

„I'll have classes from ten to four today,“ Potter says.

I notice that he is a very clean eater. Or, not really clean. More... efficient. His plate is clean in no time.

„I could cook dinner for us afterwards if you like,“ he goes on.

„That would be lovely,“ Pansy says and her voice is almost her normal voice. The voice she uses to talk to me.

Not quite. But close.

„But won't you be missed at home?“

„Not really. Ginny is flying with the Harpies. They're training twenty-four seven.“

So he is still with Weasley. I'm not surprised. Potter doesn't do things halfway.

„What would you like for dinner?“ he asks as we're cleaning the table.

Pansy looks at me.

„Draco doesn't normally eat meat. So anything vegetarian would be great.“

My head flies up and I throw her a look full of panic and anger.

Potter looks at me.

„Sure. I'll think of something.“

* * *

„Do you want to go out for dinner?“

Ginny smiles at me.

It's Sunday and she had the whole day off. I can't remember the last time we've spent such a relaxed day together.

„I'd love to, but Ron already asked me.“

„You want to go without me?“

Ginny doesn't necessarily sound pissed. Normally, she understands better than most that sometimes, I need time alone with my friends.

She always demands it for herself, afterall. Quite a lot of it.

But it's been days since we last had dinner together.

„I wouldn't mind you coming, but Ron said he wanted to talk, so...“

„Okay.“

She turns her head and looks at the TV.

„I'd really like to eat dinner with you. Honestly. It's just -“

„It's fine,“ she cuts me off.

I hesitate, then kiss her cheek.

She waves me off with a friendly pat on my shoulder.

Ron is already waiting for me at our favorite pub and I know immediately that Hermione told him.

His head is bent. Shoulders slumped.

He looks up when he sees me and we hug and say hello and I try to brace myself for what's to come.

„Hermoine's pregnant,“ he says.

„I know.“

His jaw twitches.

„She told you before me?“

I say nothing. We both know that it was to be expected.

„What do you think?“ I ask cautiously.

Ron's blue eyes flicker at me, the he resumes staring into his pint.

„I was happy. I was really fucking happy. Then she told me she doesn't think she wants to keep it.“

He rubs both hands over his face.

„It's so fucked up. I mean, it's my kid too. But I don't have a say at all.“

„I get that it's difficult, but it's her body, Ron. And ultimately, it's her who's always going to be stuck with the child.“

„She knows I'd help her as much as I can! She knows I want that baby.“

She does know. We both knew.

„If she wants to have an abortion, you'll have to accept that. Even if it's difficult.“

Ron looks to the side. His face is hard.

„I'm not sure I can.“

„There's no other way.“

„I guess.“

We're both quiet for a while. I don't think there is anything I could say to make things better for Ron. Or Hermione, for that matter.

„I just – I thought we both wanted kids. Granted, not right now, but – I mean, if she'd wanted to, I'd have been ready. I want children. I don't think twenty-two is too young.“

„It's pretty young though.“

„My parents were younger.“

„True, but you don't want seven kids, do you?“

„I mean, that would be a bit much. But – four would be fine.“

He sighs and rubs his nose.

„Hermione was always a little evasive when we talked about it. I just thought she wanted more time.“

„But that is what she wants.“

„Yeah, but – I mean, now it's happened, didn't it? It's a sign. We're old enough. I make enough money to support a family. I want to. And it's not like she'd have to give up her job.“

I tilt my head.

„Not completely, but she very likely wouldn't have the same career she could have without children. I mean, honestly – would you stay at home so she can go to work?“

Ron hesitates.

„As much as possible.“

„Without losing your position, right?“

„Yeah.“

„Hermione will. Lose her position, that is.“

„So you're on her side?“

I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

„I'm not on any side. There shouldn't be sides at all.“

„But you're saying you agree with her.“

„I think it's her decision. And I understand her reasons.“

„I don't. Not really.“

„What don't you understand?“

Ron frowns. Something angry and hurt passes over his features.

„We're not eighteen. We're adults with a home and jobs and I think we're old enough to raise a child. I thought we agreed we wanted to. And now she says she doesn't.“

„She doesn't say she doesn't want kids.“

„But she doesn't want this one.“

„Maybe not.“

„It hurts me,“ Ron admits.

„I know. I'm sorry.“

I wish I could do something to make it easier.

„And it makes me... see her in a different light,“ he continues, voice quiet.

„Because she considers an abortion?“

„Yeah. Look, I'm not against abortions per se – I think they're very legit in some scenarios. But for us – I don't want one.“

I'm not repeating what I've already said. Just pat his shoulder.

„There's nothing you can do to change the situation, man.“

Our food arrives and we eat quietly.

Ron seems to be determined to suck it up because he forces the resentment and sorrow off his face and asks:

„How are things going with Parkinson and Malfoy?“

I pause.

„Not too bad. Parkinson is doing okay, I think. She started looking for jobs.“

„That's good.“

Ron seems genuinely happy about it.

„But Malfoy – he still doesn't talk. He won't even look at me.“

Somehow, it's embarrassing to admit.

„Don't take it personal, mate. He wouldn't look at me either.“

„I just – I want to help him. But I don't know how.“

„I thought about it too and I think he's hiding behind Parkinson.“

My brows shoot up.

„You want to separate them? That won't do any good. He needs her. She's the only one he trusts.“

„But I think he lets her make decisions for him. If she takes on every human interaction, Malfoy doesn't have to.“

Ron does have a point, still...

„Malfoy would hate me if I took him away from Parkinson. Even more than he does now.“

„I'm not saying they shouldn't see each other. Just maybe not live together. So that he has to takes some steps on his own.“

After three weeks, things at Potter's house have found a routine that gives me a false sense of security.

I wake up and take a shower, get dressed and then head to the kitchen with Pansy. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Potter is there too and cooks breakfast for us. He comes over for dinners on weekdays and once, he came for lunch on a Sunday. When he's giving lessons, I hide in my room or sometimes in Pansy's. Pansy is going out since week two and tells me all about her search for a job when she gets back in the evening. She doesn't try to get me to join her. I don't even talk, afterall.

„Are you sure you don't want to get out of the house a bit?“ she asks me one afternoon and I shake my head. I've just began to not fear every shadow of this strange house that once belonged to my family. Going out seems like too much.

Potter keeps bringing me fruits, some of which I've never seen before. The gooseberries remain my favorite, but I find myself looking forward to seeing whatever he's got for me this time.

Which is dangerous. Normally, when I start looking forward to something, it's taken away from me.

He also cooks mostly vegetarian now.

„You could help me, you know,“ he says on Monday night of the fourth week.

Pansy is reading a magazine at the kitchen table.

I hesitate.

„Here. Chop the onion.“

I break out into cold sweat.

I've never chopped an onion before. Cooking wasn't one of the things my masters required of me.

„You don't know how to?“ Potter asks as he sees me standing frozen with a knife in my hand.

„Wow, Malfoy. Didn't know you're that spoiled.“

I bite my lip.

I think he's joking. But I'm not sure.

He looks at my face.

Something sad crosses his expression.

„I'll show you.“

And he does.

When he's holding the knife, it looks so easy.

I want to ask him who taught him how to cook. Maybe Molly Weasley. I know she's been something like a surogate mother to him.

For a moment, I seem to forget who I am because I lift my gaze and open my mouth. Potter's eyes widen.

„Yes?“ he croaks out.

I hastily drop my gaze and take some controlled breaths.

„Did you want to ask something?“

I lightly shake my head, blood thrumming in my ears.

„Okay. Well. I'll get back to the carrots,“ he says.

I can feel him watching me the whole evening.

When Pansy moves out, I don't see it coming.

No matter how hard I alway try to be prepared and anticipate the worst, this is not a scenario I've run through my mind before. It's been a very long time since we've been separated. The last masters we had liked both of us well enough and kept us.

„They say I can visit you anytime,“ she tells me, holding my hands.

I don't look at her.

Maybe it's good that she leaves. Maybe it really means she can start living a life.

Even though I find it hard to believe.

„I'll come by every day. I promise.“

She kisses me cheek.

„Potter isn't so bad,“ she whispers.

When she draws back, she looks into my eyes and squeezes my hands.

„He's a dumb Gryffindor, but he means well. I don't think he wants to hurt you. And if he does, he'll regret it.“

I blink at her. It's been so long since I've heard her talk like this.

People hurt me all day, every day and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.

„I'll miss you. Even though I'll see you tomorrow,“ she says and hugs me.

I hug back.

Pansy is so much shorter than me. As my arms close around her body, I notice that it's softer than it used to be. Her curves are back. Her shoulders aren't bony enough to sting anymore and her collarbones not much more than a shadow.

„Thanks for everything, Potter,“ she tells the owner of the house, who is shifting awkwardly a few metres away from us.

„No problem. Honestly. I wish you luck and I'll see you soon?“

Pansy grins.

„You bet.“

She seems so comfortable. I wonder how she does it. How she is able to shake the past so easily. With one last look at me, the door falls shut behind her.  
Potter and I are alone and my heart is at my throat.

It's not like I really expect him to try anything. He's had so much time now, so many opportunities. And still. We're alone.

„Do you want to be alone?“ he asks me.

I stare at the floor.

I don't want to be alone. But I also don't want to be with him.

„We could watch a movie,“ he says.

I keep my eyes downcast.

„I have a laptop. It's a muggle thing. But Netflix is a great invention. You'll see.“

I don't know what Potter wants and it almost makes me sicken up.

„I'll show you.“

And with that, he's gone and I try to get my panic under control.

I count to ten.

I've actually seen a laptop before. Many of the men that fucked me had been muggleborn.

„Are you coming?“

Potter is sitting on the couch in the living room. I head over, heart in my throat. He sets the laptop down on the table and says:

„We can pick a movie you like. The selection is huge.“

But I don't understand what I'm seeing on the screen and in the end, Potter picks a movie. I can't follow the plot – I'm honestly not sure there is one. Everything is very bright and colorful and Potter next to me laughs from time to time. He doesn't touch me, but I can feel his body heat, that's how close he is sitting. At first, it makes me uneasy. Eventually though, something shifts and I find it almost calming.

„Hermione is pregnant,“ Potter tells me as the credits are running.

I blink and risk a glance at him.

He's upset.

„She doesn't want the child, but Ron does. I'm afraid... They're fighting. Badly.“

I swallow.

I'm not sure what he wants from me. But I'm surprised to feel that his words actually move me.

It sounds like a terrible situation.

„I think Hermione will get the abortion in the end and I don't know what that means for their relationship.“

Potter turns his head to me and our eyes meet.

„I'm scared I'll lose them both.“

Now I know what Potter needs. He needs comfort.

It's not even that hard to reach out. It's not that hard to touch his thigh and run my hand up. So many horrible men had me. Potter is nothing. Potter is actually... sweet. A sweet person and I'm glad to finally know what to do.

His breath hitches as my hand presses against his crotch. A blush is covering his cheeks.

As I said. He's a sweet one.

My other hand joins the first and I try to open his fly. Potters fingers close around my wrists.

„No. No, Malfoy. That's not...“

His eyes are wide.

Panic is surging though my body, ice cold and bright. I've misread the situation. Now I'll pay for it.

„You don't have to – that's not why you're here. And I have a girlfriend anyway.“

I think Potter wants my body. But he apparently doesn't want to want it.

He gets up.

He'll leave.

Merlin and Morgana, he'll leave now.

„I'm sorry.“

My voice comes out broken and croaky. Potter startles. Stares at me.

„Malfoy?“

I swallow. Speaking feels so foreign.

„I'm sorry,“ I repeat.

He can't kick me out. I didn't realize it before, but I want to stay. No matter what Potter wants to do with me in the end, this is so, so much better than anything that came before.

I can't fuck it up.

„It's okay,“ he says. „I'm not mad. It was a misunderstanding.“

I nod.

And then he smiles at me.

He might have done that before, but I've never looked to see it.

There is a pain in my chest that has nothing to do with being punched or whipped. Maybe I'm sick.

„I'll be back tomorrow in the morning,“ he says and with that, he leaves.

* * *

I don't think about Malfoy's hands on my crotch. Not at all, because when I do, heat is rushing through my body and that is just wrong on so many levels.

I tell Ginny about it.

She's not mad. She thinks I am mad.

„You should kick him out,“ she says.

„I don't want to,“ I say and she doesn't even bother to answer me.

I'm back at Grimmauld the next day and pretend nothing happened. So does Malfoy and to my surprise, it works quite well.

He's talking.

Not much and not more than three words at a time, but it changes everything. I can ask him a question and sometimes, he gives me a real answer.

„Did you like the movie we watched together?“ I ask him and he nods.

„For real? It's okay if you didn't.“

„I didn't really watch,“ he says and I understand.

Watching movies together because something like our thing.

After many failed attempts at making Malfoy voice a preference, I learn that he doesn't like horror movies, but loves fantasy. Romance bores him – except for one movie about a girl that falls in love with her gay best friend, who falls in love with her boyfriend and in the end, the girl falls in love with her neighbor and everyone is so good-looking, it's surreal.

When I bring ice cream for the first time, Malfoy's eyes light up. I only have to tell him he can have some once. Then he's eating the whole box and I smile and smile.

The first question Malfoy asks me is who taught me to cook.

I tell him about the Dursleys and when I'm finished (even though I barely touched on the heavy stuff) he seems to feel bad for me. Which is an odd twist.

All in all, things are going almost smoothly. It feels like Malfoy'd finally start to take a peak out of his shell.

There is only one problem.

It's that sometimes, when we sit on the couch next to each other, I can smell Malfoy. It's that sometimes, he'll come down for breakfast in a thin shirt and I get a glance at his smooth chest. It's that sometimes, when I wake up at night, I do because I've dreamt of Malfoy.

I ignore it. I ignore every weird feeling occuring toward the blond. Not only because I have a girlfriend. It would be wrong either way.

And yet, seeing Malfoy smile makes my heart ache.

* * *

I know something is wrong the moment Potter takes off his coat.

My heart is pounding in slight unease.

I haven't yet seen Potter really angry or sad. Men tend to show their worst when they're overcome by negative emotions.

But fear isn't all I feel at the sight of the hard line around Potter's mouth.

„Hi,“ I say.

My fingers are playing with the hem of my shirt.

„Hey,“ Potter says.

I watch him put some groceries on the kitchen counter.

„You want some coffee too?“

„Yes, please,“ I say.

Potter's coffee is excellent. He makes it just the way I like it – strong and bitter.

He hands me my cup and I keep watching him.

„Is... everything alright?“ I dare to ask.

Potter stops rummaging through the pantry.

„Hermione had the abortion,“ he says.

I'm not sure how he feels about it, so I'm careful and decide to say nothing.

„I mean, I knew she'd have one. In the end. But... Ron lost it. He screamed at her and he... threw a glass against the wall. Not at her, of course. But still. He threw a fucking glass.“

„I'm sorry,“ I say.

Potter lets out a breath and turns to me.

„I'm not sure if they can work through that. I've never seen Ron like this. It seemed...“

It's like Potter almost can't say it.

„It seemed like he really hated her.“

I blink.

„He was very upset,“ I offer.

„But he shouldn't have flipped like that. Throwing glasses is just... no.“

I have a hard time understanding him.

„It was just a glass,“ I say.

Potter frowns at me.

„Yeah, still.“

„I mean... he didn't hurt her.“

„No. Not physically, at least. But he made this so hard for her. I mean, I get that he wanted this baby. I understand. But at some point, he should have accepted her choice. He never did.“

„Many men have a hard time accepting the choices of others,“ I say.

Potter looks at me and I have to avoid his gaze.

„I guess. Male entitlement is a real thing.“

I want to ask Potter why he's talking as if he wasn't one of them, but I don't. There is no way to ask that question without being offensive.

I used to be one of those entitled men. One of the worst, actually. But I've learned my lesson a long time ago.

„Malfoy?“

I blink.

„Yes?“

„How are you feeling?“

I hesitate. I don't understand the question.

When I say nothing, Potter goes on:

„I just... you never talk about how you feel. I never know if you actually like doing things or if you just... bear them. So I don't get angry.“

My palms are starting to sweat. I still don't know what to say.

„For example, do you really like watching movies with me? Or do you think you have to?“

I allow myself to think about it.

„I like it,“ I say finally.

Potter smiles.

Whenever he does that, I feel so strange.

„Okay. Cool.“

I scrape my courage together.

Then I smile at him.

* * *

„Seriously?“

I stare at Ginny.

Ginny, who just checked her schedule for the week.

„What? Sorry, I just needed to check that real quick.“

My mouth tastes bitter.

„I was trying to talk to you.“

„Yeah, one second.“

She wasn't even listening.

„I'm trying to tell you how I think my two best friends are going to break up and you're not even looking at me.“

Now she does.

„Sorry. Just – don't be dramatic, okay?“

I snap.

With one motion, I'm on my feet.

„Dramatic? I'm trying to talk to you. I have one day a week with you and you're not even really there.“

Ginny gets up as well.

„Harry, this is important to me.“

I stare at her.

„And I?“

„What?“

„Am I important to you?“

„Don't be ridiculous. Of course you are.“

She's looking at me and something is missing.

All the things I've been asking myself for the last year come pouring out.

„Do you even love me anymore? Do you want to spend time with me?“

Ginny closes her eyes for a moment.

„I do, Harry. You're just – you're so much sometimes!“

„What?“

I feel unsteady. Like someone would be pulling at the rug under my feet.

„I don't mean to be mean,“ she whispers.

But Ginny is honest. She's sometimes even more honest than me.

„I just can't deal with your neediness all the time. I'm so busy and you're...“

„I'm busy too!“

„I know. I just...“

„I'm too much,“ I say, voice hollow.

That's new. I'm more used to being not enough.

Too much is a new one.

„Do you even want to be with me?“ I ask her.

„Do you want to be with me?“

She's looking at me with those brown eyes I know so well.

„Not when I'm too much for you.“

„I do love you, Harry.“

„But you don't want to see me.“

„I do, just not...“

„Like once a month? Would that be convenient?“

We stare at each other.

„I think we need to break up,“ Ginny says.

„Yeah. I think we fucking do.“

* * *

When Weasley drops by late in the evening, unannounced and with me alone in the house, I have a panic attack.

At first, I was in the bathroom and I didn't know who he was, and then I heard clumsy, heavy steps – the steps of a drunk man.

I crouch down on the cold tiles and try to get my breathing under control. I count to ten. It doesn't work.

I don't know why I suddenly can't bear simply hearing a drunk bloke stumbling through the house when, just weeks ago, those drunk blokes would head directly to whereever I was sprawled out and then pound into me, one way or another. It doesn't make sense for me to lose it like that, but I can't help it.

„Malfoy?“

He's drunk.

He really is drunk and I can't get a grip.

Weasley finds me in the bathroom, my hands fisted in my hair, hyperventilating.

„Oh, fuck,“ he says and crouches down next to me, almost falling.

„It's just me. Just me. Sorry. Shit, sorry.“

He doesn't try to touch me (he's made that mistake before) and just sits next to me, babbling.

„It's gonna be okay.“

Slowly, very slowly, my breathing normalizes and my heartbeat slows. It wasn't a bad one. I manage not to cry. I manage to inhale and force my muscles to relax.

„Sorry,“ Weasley says again.

His eyes are bloodshut and he reeks of whiskey.

Maybe I should be the one telling him it's all going to be alright.

„I just had to – get away. And I didn't really know... I didn't want to bother Harry. Because I know Hermione will want to talk to him and he thinks I'm a monster now. Because I wanted that baby. I wanted it so much, Malfoy.“

Weasley is crying. I swallow.

It's not the first time I've seen a man cry.

There, of course, had been some times in Hogwarts, but I don't really count those – those were boys crying, not men. At the Manor, during the times the Dark Lord would stay there and dip everything in black, I once caught my father crying. And then there were a handful of men who cried in my bed. They were mostly those who couldn't bring themselves to admit they simply prefered cock over pussy. One though had just lost his boyfriend and missed him.

But all those times were different. The reasons for crying were different and none of those men was crying for me to see. I either caught them by surprise or they were just lying with a body they did not know.

Weasley knows me though.

The problem is, I have no idea how to comfort someone. I mean – I have one idea. Several, actually. But I'm quite certain Weasley wouldn't respond well to those. He strikes me as on the very far end of the spectrum, never once giving me a sweep with his eyes.

„I know I fucked up,“ he goes on. „I really do. It's her decision. But I just – Malfoy, that was my kid. My child. And she just decided she doesn't want it.“

I blink.

„I'm sorry,“ I say.

„Yeah.“

He looks at me as if he needed something from me, but in a different way than usually.

„Do you think I'm a bad person?“

It's funny that he deems my opinion on such a matter valid.

„No,“ I say because, of course, I have to.

„Be honest.“

I'm searching my brain for something helpful.

„Pansy has had an abortion once. One of the clients got her pregnant.“

Weasley's eyes widen.

„Oh, shit. That's... I mean, good that she was able to abort. In her situation, having a child would have been horrible.“

„Why?“ I ask.

Weasley gives me a look that clearly indicates he's worried about my sanity. More than usually.

„I mean, she wouldn't have been able to properly care for the baby. And it would probably feel that its mother – never wanted it.“

I blink at him and let him draw his own conclusions.

He groans.

„Okay, but – 'Mione wasn't raped. That's different.“

I decide to not have a discussion with Weasley about the difference between forced prostitution and rape. It's not an easy one.

„It's different. But some things stay the same,“ I say.

„Like that she doesn't want the baby?“

„Yes.“

„But why?“

He looks at me as if I could provide an answer and it makes me uneasy.

Footsteps downstairs startle us both.

Those footsteps, I know well.

„Harry?“ Weasley shouts loud enough that my eardrums almost pop.

„Ron?“

Potter doesn't look much better than Weasley when he finds us on the bathroom floor. His green eyes go wide.

„What are you doing here?“

„I had a fight with Hermione,“ he says, voice grave.

„Oh. I'm sorry.“

Potter is hovering in the door, apparently not knowing what to do. Weasley pats the floor next to him. When Potter sits down, I hug my legs to my body again.

Potter lets Weasley go on about his girlfriend's abortion and an argument that ended in very, very ugly words and slammed doors.

All the while, I study Potter's face. He's upset. Something upset him. If Weasley would finally shut his stupid mouth, maybe Potter would talk about it. When the ginger comes up for air, I seize the opportunity.

„Why are you here? So late?“ I ask, making the effort to look at Potter.

His green irises behind glasses look like gemstones. There is a zit on his forehead and I think about how zits on the men fucking me always grossed me out. I try to make the zit on Potter's forehead gross. I don't succeed.

„Ginny and I broke up.“

Weasley stares at him.

I'm not sure I'm surprised.

I just wonder if Potter is gay or just bi and if his attraction to men has something to do with the breakup.

„You're joking,“ Weasley says.

As if Potter would be joking right now.

„Afraid not.“

Potter's voice is dark.

„We need more alcohol,“ Weasley announces and summons a bottle.

The two Gryffindors are quick to empty half a bottle. Suddenly, Potter halts. Hesitates. Looks at me.

„Do you want some too?“

I look at the bottle.

I was always drinking or taking something... before.

It made it a lot easier. Looking at the bottle makes me want.

But it also seems like a symbol for what I want to be past.

I shake my head.

„Okay. Do you mind if we...?“

I crook a smile, amused.

„Very considerate of you to ask me half a bottle in.“

Both men blink at me and the image is so hilarious, I can't stifle a short laugh.

They won't stop looking at me though and I turn my head away, blood rushing in my ears.

„We're stupid,“ Potter says. To Weasley, I think.

„Nah. Just drunk.“

„I wasn't drunk before you showed up.“

„You just got dumped. That's no time to be sober.“

„It was mutual,“ Potter grumbles and lifts the bottle.

„I just don't get what I did wrong,“ Potter slurs, blinking at me with his glazed eyes.

Weasley already passed out on the couch in the living room and Potter and I – we're sitting in the empty bath tub, facing each other. Our legs touch and Potter's limbs are loose and soft from alcohol.

„I was always there. I just wanted to make her happy.“

„Maybe that was the problem.“

„She said I'm too much,“ he says and the hurt in his face does something weird to my chest.

Now he can't look at me anymore.

„Too much for her, maybe,“ I say. „Which at the same time means she wasn't enough for you.“

Potter stares at me. He put his glasses down and without them, his face looks different. Younger, I think. He just keeps looking at me and I force myself to keep still. Part of me doesn't mind his staring.

„You're pretty,“ he says and my mouth opens.

I've expected many things, but that wasn't one of them.

I've heard it before, of course. Not very often though. And never like this.

„You're so pretty,“ he repeats and I swallow.

„And you're drunk,“ I remind him.

He shrugs and one of his easy smiles appears on his face. Smiling always looks calculated on me. Strained, sometimes. On Potter, it's the easiest thing in the world.

„I love your nose. You have such a cute nose.“

„Oh my god,“ I say and I don't know how to handle this. I don't know what to do.

„Sorry. I don't – am I making you uncomfortable?“

I shake my head.

„But I think you should go to bed.“

He nods slowly.

„Yeah. I probably should.“

I stand up first and then Potter tries to and he almost falls. I catch him by the arm and he looks at me and he's so close, I can smell the liquor on his breath and the lemongrass soap he uses and for a moment, I'm convinced he'll kiss me.

„Thanks,“ he just says though and draws away.

I look after him as he stumbles into one of the spare bedrooms.


	3. Chapter 3

Unsurprisingly, I'm the first one awake the next day. I slip under the shower and rinse off before heading to the kitchen. For a moment, I just stand there, undecidedly. I'm fighting the strangest urge. I want to make Potter coffee. I want to make him coffee and cook breakfast for him, just as he always does for me.

It's a disturbing thought. I've never cooked for anyone before. And the only person I ever made coffee is Pansy.

But most importantly, I never wanted to. It's just not something Malfoys do.

I'm not really a Malfoy anymore though, am I? I'm a whore.

Which still is no reason to start acting like a housemaid. But then again – Potter does. He does as if it was nothing. He does it to be nice.

I never knew how to be nice.

„Smells good,“ Potter comments as he walks into the kitchen.

I bite my lip.

„I made coffee,“ I say dumbly. As if he couldn't see that with his own two eyes.

„Yeah. That's – nice. Thank you.“

He blinks at me and something warm is rippling through my body. Something I don't know the name of. He takes a sip and smiles at me.

„So you like your coffee not as strong as I brew it. Noted.“

I shake my head.

„No. I like your coffee. I just don't know how to – well. I haven't made a lot of coffee.“

„Oh. I can show you,“ he says. „But this is good. I like your coffee.“

I have to turn away.

„Did you make fruit salad?“

He sounds surprised. I wonder if that's something I shouldn't have done. It's the only thing I could think of that I might be able to make.

„Is that alright?“ I ask tentatively.

„Yeah, of course. I never – yeah. That's great.“

Potter sounds genuine and I relax.

I slip on a chair next to Potter and when he looks at my profile, I swallow.

„What?“

„Nothing.“

I don't want to eat first. But Potter won't make a move to fill the bowl I put down in front of him. Maybe he doesn't like fruit salad. Maybe I should just stop with the stupid experiments.

„Actually,“ he says.

Then pauses.

„Yes?“

I try to brace myself for anything.

„Can I call you Draco?“

Now I turn and look at him.

„It's just – it feels weird, having you live in my house and calling you by your last name.“

He's blushing.

„Also, I like your name. Draco, I mean. I like the name Draco.“

I stare for a moment longer.

„You can call me whatever you like,“ I finally say and Potter's face darkens.

I wasn't even aware of how... whorish it sounded before I said it. I'm not sure I meant it that way.

„I mean, yes. You can call me Draco. I don't mind.“

He looks back at me, corner of a smile on his mouth.

Potter has a pretty mouth. A beautiful one, even. His lips are full and almost red and with a defined shape.

My own mouth isn't that nice. I've been told that before.

„Cool,“ he says and then digs into the salad I made.

* * *

Ron wakes up when Parkinson storms through the door. She looks like she just fell from a runway in Paris. A black trench coat and high heels and red lipstick.

„Draco.“

She smiles widely and Malfoy – Draco – smiles back. I could watch it all day.

While Ron is sitting up, blinking and grimacing (his mouth probably tastes foul), Pansy wraps her arms around Draco. He hugs her back, resting his cheek on her head for a moment.

„Sweet Merlin, did you get Potter to make fruit salad?“ she asks and peers at Draco's plate with interest.

„Actually, Draco made it,“ I say.

For a moment, Parkinson pierces me with a curious glance at the use of Draco's first name. Then she arches an eyebrow.

„Didn't know you could do that.“

Draco rolls his eyes.

„So much trust in my abilities.“

„Your abilities to cook? I trust in those as much as in your abilities to get it up with a girl,“ she says and I blush a little, but Draco just smiles crookedly.

„Good then that you don't cook a fruit salad.“

„That is true,“ she says and steals cubes of bananas and apples from Draco's plate.

„How are you, Parkinson?“ Ron asks, finally on his two feet.

„Better than you, by the looks of it.“

Ron raises his brows at her and staggers to the sink, rinsing his mouth.

„Any coffee left?“

Draco nods and Ron pours himself a generous cup.

„I feel like shit,“ he announces.

„Not really surprising, is it?“

Parkinson looks at Ron with a slight frown.

„Did the three of you have a party last night and didn't invite me?“

Her lips form a pout.

„Something like that. Weasley almost blew things with Granger and Potter got dumped by Weaslette,“ Draco says and for a second, he is the Draco Malfoy I remember.

The moment Draco realizes what he just said, he pales to an unhealthy shade of ashes. His fingers start twitching and he digs his nails into his arms.

„Yeah, we're totally winning at life,“ I say – the first thing I can come up with to ease the tension.

Parkinson smiles at me.

„I always knew you weren't really into gingers, Potter,“ she says lightly.

Ron frowns at me.

„Where will you stay now?“

I bite my lip and look at Draco, who obviously still hasn't completely recovered from his brief outburst of snark.

„I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I was thinking that maybe... I could stay here for a while. Until things have settled a bit.“

Draco looks at me quizically.

„It's your house, Potter.“

„Harry. And, yeah, I know.“

I feel stupid.

„But – I don't know. If it would make you uncomfortable, I could find another place.“

„There's always our couch,“ Rons says.

Then, his face darkens.

„Or not. I guess that's my bed now. You can have half of the double bed.“

„I think I'm good,“ I say.

„So – you'd be okay with that? Me living here? For a while, I mean.“

I look at the blond. Draco genuinely doesn't seem to understand why I'm asking.

„Of course. As I said, this is your house.“

„Yeah, but – okay.“

Parkinson's dark eyes are on me and I don't know why it always feels like she'd know more about me than I do. Maybe I should introduce her to Hermione. The two of them would probably get along splendidly.

„What have you been up to?“ I ask her.

She finishes Draco's coffee. He glares at her.

„Well, everything's going well at work, but... I might get kicked out of my apartment.“

She stares into the cup, then forces a smile.

„What? Why?“ Ron asks.

She turns to look at him.

„My lessor found out who Pansy Parkinson is. He doesn't like it much.“

„That's bull,“ Ron says, brows knit together.

Pansy arches an eyebrow.

„Well, thank you. I'll figure it out.“

She shrugs and sets the cup down.

„Draco, your coffee is shit,“ she says and steals another bite from his plate.

Being single again is a strange feeling. Not talking to Ginny is a strange feeling. I thought I'd be used to not talking to her, but despite her frequent absence, I realize now how much time I actually used to spend with her. I miss having her in my bed. Curling around her warm body was always a nice way to come down. When we started dating, it used to be my favorite part of the day. Sometimes, I wake up in my bed at Grimmauld and blindly try to reach for her. It's like the smell of her hair would be lingering in my sheets – even though she never even slept in this bed with me.

„Do you miss her?“ Draco asks me at breakfast before my lessons of the day start.

„Yeah,“ I say, looking at my scrambled eggs.

„She's stupid, you know,“ Draco says.

I look up.

„Why?“

„To break up with you.“

I bite my tongue not to say it was mutual. It wasn't really.

„Enarmoured with me much, Malfoy?“ I ask, a smile tugging at my lips.

He shrugs and looks away.

„You cook,“ he says.

„That seems important to you.“

He shrugs again. Draco has a way of shrugging with only one shoulder, tilting his head back a little while doing so.

„You're sweet,“ he then says.

My heart is pounding. I don't know where to look.

„What?“

The blond throws me a look out of smokey gray eyes.

„I'll say this once and then we pretend I've never said it in the first place, alright?“

I nod.

„You're the most caring person I know. You cook and clean and ask how someone's day was. You smile and say nice things. You always make coffee for two. You're sweet.“

I stare at Draco.

„I never said that,“ he reminds me.

Blond hair is fallig over his eyes.

„Okay.“

Throughout the whole day, I think of what Draco never said.

Ron and Hermione both always told me the same.

I remember being so insecure, wondering if I could ever be enough for Ginny, talking to Hermoine in her new apartment that still smelt of fresh paint.

„I'll just never live up to the image everyone has of me now,“ I said.

„Ginny knows you, Harry,“ Hermoine said.

„But I'm... I feel like she's so much more grown up than I am. She knows what she wants. She knows how to make a life.“

„Yes, but you know how to make a home,“ she said and I stared at her.

„What do you mean?“

She put a hand on my knee and squeezed.

„You're so kind, Harry. I don't think you realize how kind you are. You always want to make people feel good. I know no one who is as good with the little things as you are. For example, I'm bad with them. I have to remind myself to clean up and make coffee and sometimes leave a nice message when I'm gone all day. You do all these things without even thinking about it. Ginny is lucky to have you.“

I was touched by her words, but I didn't really believe them. I was eighteen and knew nothing about relationships at all.

When I was twenty, Ginny and I had a bad fight. I started with shouting about who was supposed to clean the bathroom, then transformed into accusations about why we were hardly having sex anymore and finally ended in Ginny screaming I'd suffocate her and me screaming she never ever showed me she cared.

After that, I went out drinking with Ron.

„I feel like we're having two different conversations,“ I told him. „She never listens to me. And I try to listen, but in the end, I don't think I know what she's saying.“

Ron had taken a sip from his butterbeer.

„The problem is that my sister doesn't appreciate the way you show your love for her. And the other way around. For Ginny – I think for Ginny, showing love means showing trust and giving the other space. It means she trusts you to come home to her at night and chase your dreams during the day. But you don't – I don't think you want that much space, Harry. You prefer spending your day with your partner, if possible. And you show your love not mainly by trust, but by... being there and doing those small things to make the other person happy.“

To this day, I think it's the wisest thing Ron has ever said.

It made me realize a lot. It put many things into perspective and for a while, our relationship improved. I was paying attention and noticed how Ginny showed me she cared. And I tried to adjust my way of showing her that I cared.

Only now I realize that this wasn't right either. We'd have had to find a way of meeting in the middle. I compromised – she didn't.

„I think we weren't right for each other,“ I blurt out over dinner with Draco.

Neither of us cooked tonight. Instead, we got takeaway from a Thai place nearby and are now wrestling with spicy curry and hot spring rolls.

Draco blinks at me.

„Weasley and you?“

„Yeah. I never thought about it before, but – I was the one putting in all the work. At least toward the end. And I don't think – I see now. She was right when she said it shouldn't be so hard. I mean, I think compromising is always part of a relationship. But you shouldn't have to change who you are, how you show love, for a relationship to work.“

The blond stares at me and I feel my cheeks heat.

„Yeah, sorry. That was me rambling. Sorry.“

„It's fine.“

I curse my loose mouth and stuff it with rice.

„Really,“ Draco says. „What you're saying sounds very logical.“

I smile wryly.

„Thanks.“

I glance at Draco while he's eating.

„Draco?“

He swallows and looks up at me, caution in his eyes.

„Yes?“

„Have you ever had a relationship?“

He pauses.

„No.“

„Okay.“

He frowns at the spring roll dangling between his elegant fingers.

„I wasn't out in Hogwarts, you know. I believe it's obvious that my parents wouldn't have approved.“

„Where are they now?“ I ask.

Draco bites his lip.

„My father is in Azkaban. I'm not sure about my mother.“

„I'm sorry.“

„It's alright. He deserved it.“

„But you deserve better than a father in prison.“

His bright eyes dart to me for a moment and I realize how clouded they are. How shuttered, most of the time.

„Draco?“

He looks down.

„Can I ask you a question?“

He nods lightly.

„How did it happen? How did you end up... you know.“

I can't say it.

„As human trash?“

I flinch. His voice is like the thinnest blade I've ever touched. His eyes trace the outline of his takeaway box.

„I didn't have anywhere to go, after the War. The Manor was taken by the Ministry and no one would open their door for me. Pansy experienced the same and she wasn't even a Death Eater. So we lived on the streets for a while. She wanted to start pulling tricks as it got colder. I couldn't bear watching her do it. So I did it for her. But I wasn't really... I wasn't good at it. Back then. I didn't know how to not cry. Pansy eventually joined me, just so we could eat from time to time. That's when they found us. We went with them willingly. We thought it would be better than the streets.“

I have never heard Draco say more than two sentences at a time. And now that he does, he's breaking my heart.

„Draco...“

„It wasn't better.“

Before I can think better of it, I get up and stand in front of him. Opening my arms. Pulling him close. At first he's stiff, arms awkwardly folded at his side, hands grazing my chest. But just as I'm about to let go, not to make him more uncomfortable, he slowly leans against me. The angle is a little awkward, with him sitting on the high stool and me hugging him from the side, but I don't want to let go.

Something is rushing through me, something so powerful, it almost brings me to my knees. I want to hold on. I want to keep him here. Protect him. Feel safe with him. Draco's hair smells like... I can't describe it. It's his very own smell and it might just be the best scent I know.

„Is that okay?“ I whisper. „To hug you.“

He nods tentatively.

I want to bury my nose in his hair, but that would be weird, so I don't. I just hold him until he moves a little bit, which I take as a hint to let him go.

Detangling myself from him, I sit back down again and look at him. His eyes are more open than I've ever seen them.

„I'm so sorry that happened to you, Draco. But it's past now. I swear to you, I'll protect you. It won't ever happen again.“

Draco swallows and his lashes flutter a little.

He doesn't say anything, but he really does not need to.

When Ron and Hermione break up, it's Hermione standing in front of my door. I'm not sure if they scheduled it or if she was simply faster. My money would be on the latter. Her face is completely puffy and red, her eyes still full of tears. I let her inside and she starts sobbing, so I wrap my arms around her and hold her until she's ready to speak.

Draco slinks down the stairs and looks at me over Hermione's shoulder. I mouth: „They broke up,“ and a small crease appears high on Draco's forehead. He nods and quietly turns around, ascending the stairs again.

„I knew it would happen,“ she says, taking deep, shaky breaths and smoothing down her hair with trembling hands.

„It was obvious. He was never going to forgive me. He never will.“

„I'm sure, one day...“

„No. Not completely.“

Hermoine squeezes her eyes shut, but she can't stop the tears from falling.

„What should I have done? What would have been right?“

„You did what was right for you,“ I tell her. „And that means it was right for everyone.“

I let her cry, make her tea and assure that we'll always be friends, not matter what will happen with Ron. I don't want to think about how things are going to be from now on. I know that they'll both hate me for spending time with the other. Especially Ron. I have been forced to choose before and that time was horrible. But we were stupid teenagers back then. Sixteen. It was nothing compared to this.  
Hermoine sleeps on my couch that night and Draco peers out of his room as I head to the bathroom, asking:

„Is she alright?“

I shrug.

„She will be.“

I'm so tired. I'm tired enough to sleep for weeks. Before I know what's happening, Draco has stepped forward, into my personal space. His hands come up to my face and my heart is hammering in my chest. He gently takes my glasses off, folds them and gives them to me.

„Go to sleep,“ he says and that's what I do.

I have a hard time focusing on my students the next day.

I tell Gabriel to drop his shield and Ava promptly has him flying against the next wall and then I correct Sasha's footwork, but forget to also tell her to keep her wandhand high.

In the evening, I'm frustrated and exhausted. And sad.

„I cooked,“ Draco tells me as I find him in the kitchen.

It smells like lasagna (my favorite) and Draco is wearing a purple jumper over thin sweatpants. His feet are bare and his hair looks soft and this is yet another problem I am not ready to face.

„Thank you,“ I say sincerely, not quite able to look at him.

I'm halfway through my first portion when Draco says:

„Weasley will move in with Pansy.“

I drop my fork.

„What?“

„She visited today. You were busy teaching. She told me about her problems with her lessor and that Weasley offered to move in with her and have the lease under his name. She accepted.“

„But...“

I know Ron needs a new apartment. Hermoine picked this one and it only makes sense that he's the one leaving.

But living with Parkinson of all people?

„I was surprised as well,“ Draco says.

„Understatement of the year.“

I go to bed early, hoping that I might feel better after a couple hours of sleep. But sleep won't come and I keep tossing and turning in my bed, ready to throw something against the wall when I hear a quiet noise. It sounds like someone is crying. I hold my breath, listening.

It's Draco. It's Draco and it sounds like he's crying.

I keep lying there for some minutes, indecisive. Maybe it's the good old Gryffindor courage that gets me to move. Gets me to sit up and slide out of bed, cross the room and then the hallway. I knock on Draco's door.

„Draco?“

The crying stops.

I call his name again. Softly.

„Come in,“ his voice says and I do.

Draco is sitting on his bed in the darkness, sheets crumpled around his waist, back hunched.

„Are you okay?“ I ask.

He nods. His hands are shaking.

Slowly, I take a step forward. Then another one and another one until I'm standing next to the bed.

„Draco? Have you been crying?“

„Just a nightmare.“

His voice is thin and high.

„Can I sit?“

He shrugs and, very carefully, I sit down on the edge of his bed.

„It's okay,“ I say and reach out. Touch his shoulder. Tentatively.

His shirt is almost rough under my hand, his shoulder bony. Warm. I think he's biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut. I turn to face him, extending my reach.

„Hey. It's alright.“

With a shuddering exhale, his body sways toward me.

I catch him in an embrace. Slowly, I lie back – miscalculating the way and falling, Draco half on top of me. In the end, his head is on my chest, one arm over my body. I drape my arms around him, one hand hovering over his head. I stroke his hair. Once. Twice. He doesn't go rigid. I think he's leaning into me. So I pet his hair and murmur that it's all going to be okay, until I don't even know anymore who of us I'm reassuring.

„I'm back there,“ he whispers. „Every night.“

I swallow and keep quiet.

„They are back. And I'm nothing again.“

„You were never nothing.“

„Yes I was. For over three years.“

„You're not nothing to me.“

You're everything, I think and it terrifies me so much, I almost crawl out of the bed.

But I don't.

„Why don't you hate me?“ he asks.

I sigh and look at the dark ceiling.

„Honestly, I think I never really hated you. I just... I hated how you used to treat my friends. And I hated that you always acted like you'd be so much better than me. Like you thought I was less.“

„I never believed that, Harry. I just wanted you to think I do.“

„What did you believe? Did you hate me?“

There is silence for so long, I almost think he's fallen asleep.

„I never hated you at all.“

„Why were you such an asshole then?“

My hand is still petting his hair. I can't help myself. It's so soft and silky and it's Draco's.

„Several reasons,“ he says. Hesitantly.

„Like what?“

„Like... I wanted to impress my father. By acting like he'd want me to. Believing what he did.“

„And other than that?“

„Other than that... I was angry at you. And hurt in my pride that you didn't want to be my friend. I didn't understand friendship. I wasn't used to people not wanting me around.“

„I only didn't want to be your friend because you were so mean to Ron.“

„Yes. That's why I kept taunting him.“

I need a moment to take that in.

„You were jealous?“

„Yes.“

The darkness seems to make Draco honest. I just learned more about him than in the past weeks together.

„We would have made good friends in school,“ I tell the boy currently lying on my chest.

„You think so?“

„Hm. We could have had friendlies against each other. I loved flying with you.“

„You loved beating me, you mean.“

„That too.“

I grin into the darkness.

„I could have shown you the dungeons,“ Draco says. „There were a lot of interesting rooms you would have loved.“

„Yeah?“

„Hm-hm.“

„I could have shown you secret passage ways to Hogsmeade.“

„Honestly?“

„Yeah. One goes right to Honeydukes.“

„That sounds like heaven.“

I laugh. Draco's head bobs a little on my chest.

„You think you can sleep now?“ I ask him quietly.

„Probably.“

„Do you want me to leave?“

Another silence.

„That might be better?“

I try to deny the disappointment curling in my belly.

„Okay. Yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow.“

He scoots away from me to let me get up.

I smile at him, ignoring the heat in my face.

„Sleep well,“ I say.

„Good night, Harry.“

* * *

I wake up to sunlight on my face and stretch my limbs, blinking into the bright light. Maybe I dreamt last night.

But no – I didn't.

That conversation really happened. I lie still and listen to the quiet. I wasn't honest with Harry. Not fully.

Friends is not what I wanted to be back in school. First I thought I would. Then I thought I hated him. And then...

I rub my face. Think back.

Then, I woke up from a dream. We were dancing and he kissed me.

I was fourteen and in love for the first time. In love with the last person on the planet who'd ever want me back. It didn't keep me from torturing him though. It also didn't keep me from moaning his name at night, my frantic hands working under the sheets. Wondering what it would feel like to have him touch me.

I never had sex in school. Only my fantasies that grew with me as I grew. My dreams evolved from kissing to touching to having him move inside me. I had my first kiss with a girl and wondered what it would feel like doing the same with him. If it would feel right instead of strange, hot instead of interesting.

It shouldn't matter now.

I open my eyes fully, bearing the light.

It doesn't.

I can't even remember the last time I felt something like desire. The last time I've wanked must have been close to four years ago. I didn't think living with Harry would be a problem in that sense.

But maybe I was wrong. Because right now, my blood is rushing south and I feel things I haven't felt in forever.

Nausea hits me and I press a hand against my mouth, breathing deeply through my nose.

When I get down to breakfast and find Harry there, he blushes. But smiles nonetheless.

„Slept well?“ he asks.

„Fairly.“

I sit down next to him, tucking my legs under.

He's having his schedules in front of him, frowning. The toast in his right hand is steadily tilting. He'll have jam on his parchment in a moment. I reach out and move his hand up. Not that I could have just warned him instead.

„Oh. Thanks,“ he says and takes a bite.

„Why are you frowning?“ I ask him.

„It's just what I've told you about before. The class is too big. I can't watch them all at once. But I can't really divide it either.“

„Your elementary school kids?“

„Yeah.“

„Why don't you hire an assistant? I'm sure they wouldn't have to be overly qualified to teach some baby wizards how multiplication works.“

Harry blinks at me.

„Don't tell me you didn't think of this yourself.“

„I didn't.“

I roll my eyes, smiling.

„Merlin, Potter. You keep exceeding my worst expectations.“

He smiles at me. For some weird reason, Harry likes it when I insult him.

„Why don't you do it?“

„What?“

„Why don't you assist me?“

As I said. Always exceeding my worst expectations.

„I... don't think I'm the right one.“

„I do. Come on. It'll be fun.“

I start squirming. It sounds like he won't leave me a choice.

His eyes soften.

„You don't have to. Obviously. You don't have to do anything just because I tell you to.“

I bite my lip and look down.

„But I'm sure you'd be good at it. I could... I mean, if you want to, I can pay you.“

He sounds unsure about it. My blood runs cold. I shake my head before I can even really think about it.

„No.“

„Okay. Then thank you so much. I'm sure the kids will love you.“

* * *

I was right – the kids do love Draco. Especially the girls.

They fawn over him, mistaking his shyness and quiet for manly reserve and purpose. But mostly they like him for his hair, I guess.

Draco wasn't necessarily born to be a teacher, but his patience and ability to listen makes working with him easy. While I talk and assign tasks, he stands by. When the time comes to roam the rows of my young students, he's like a shadow, peering at the worksheets and helping whereever he can.

I'm not sure he likes it, but at least he doesn't hate it. When I see him smiling at one of my kids, pride is swelling my chest.

„You were brilliant today,“ I tell him when the last kid has left.

My heart is beating fast. I can't stop looking at him.

He tilts his head. Shrugs.

„I didn't do much.“

„Still. You were so good.“

I think he blushes a little and turns his head away. But then, he looks back at me, arching an eyebrow.

„Thought simple multiplication would exceed my abilities?“

„No, but I wasn't sure how good you are with kids.“

He grimaces.

„I'm not good with kids. I don't like them much.“

„That's sad because they clearly like you.“

Draco chooses not to comment and I choose not to stare at his throat another long second. I've never been this attracted to someone's throat before. But Draco's...

„What would you like for dinner?“

There is no reason for me to sound breathless.

„We could make pizza.“

„Sounds good.“

I didn't even listen.

My heart won't slow.

„I'll... head downstairs,“ Draco says.

„Yeah.“

I just keep standing there and when he pushes past me, I get a whiff of his amazing scent. Sweet yet so masculine. My mouth goes dry. I want to curl my fingers around his wrist. I want to pull and I want to...

„I'll join you in a sec,“ I say and he nods, giving me a curious look over his shoulder.

Before I know what I'm doing, I've locked myself into the bathroom.

My hand is in my pants. I don't allow myself to stop and take a moment to think about this. What it means.

I just start moving my hand, biting down on my forearm so I won't moan. I've always been an embarassingly fast wanker. I lack any finesse whatsoever. I usually don't even really think about anything while I do it. I just move my hand and wait for that primal pleasure to build. But not today.

Today, I'm thinking about Draco's throat. I think about his eyes. Those pale lashes. I think about his nose, which is honestly the most perfect nose I have ever seen.  
It's the thought about his lips, faint pink and rather thin, that has me coming.

„Fuck,“ I curse.

I throw my arm over my eyes.

I'm in so much trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already halfway through!  
> I hope you're still with me - thanks to everyone who left a comment <3


	4. Chapter 4

It's as if wanking to images of Draco had been the catalyst for every single hidden and suppressed desire of mine to surface. I can't be in the same room as Draco anymore without thinking about kissing him. I can't watch him eat without thinking about licking his throat. I can't do anything anymore without thinking about him.

It's wrong. I know it's wrong to see him like that. Not because he's a boy (even though that, too, is something I'll have to sort out eventually), but because he's traumatized and probably not at all ready for any kind of sexual intimacy.

And if he was, certainly not with me.

If he's not around, I can tell myself all that and at least half believe it. But as soon as he is, all my logic goes flying right out of the window. I don't care about anything but him.

If I truly do care about him though, I need to let this go. I need to get a grip on myself.

Maybe it's time to go out again. Find someone to have some fun with.

„I'll go out with Ron tonight,“ I tell Draco over dinner.

He just nods.

„Yes, Pansy told me. I'll be spending the night at hers. If that is okay with you?“

I blink.

„Of course. You don't have to ask permission, Draco.“

„Alright.“

I manage to keep myself from asking if it'll only be the two of them. It's none of my business.

I'm running late and take two steps at a time. I forgot my wand in my room. This... distraction is getting ridiculous. As I pass the bathroom, I can hear the shower running.

Draco is showering.

He's naked behind this door.

It's like I'm frozen on the spot. Over the rush of the water, I hear something else. Draco is singing.

A smile spreads over my face. Draco is singing under the shower and he's doing it horribly.

I think he's a worse singer than I am and that means a lot.

There is this ache in my chest. This ache I'm starting to get an idea about, about what it might mean, but absolutely refuse to think about.

I give myself a mental kick in the ass and rush to my room, picking up my wand and then basically flying down the stairs.

The night turns out to be a bitter disappointment.

Ron goes on and on about Hermione and then switches to talking about Parkinson, how she leaves her clothes everywhere, how the whole apartment smells of her perfume and how she's out almost every night.

I listen and nod and listen a little more and then excuse myself, scanning the place for potential one-offs.

I've never had a one-night-stand. I've never had sex with anyone but Ginny. I don't know how to do this, but I'm desperate.

Things don't go as planned.

At first, they go better than anticipated – I find an interested candidate in not too much time. I refuse to think about if she's just interested because I'm the Boy Who Lived.

Things go worse than planned when we kiss and I realize I can't do this. I'm only thinking about Draco. What it might be like kissing him instead of this witch.

Taking my leave is awkward. The witch is offended and I'm crushed and when I get home, Draco isn't there.

I fall into bed alone, tipsy and frustrated and pining.

When Draco gets home the next day, he looks good.

He looks like he's had fun and I pray to anyone who might listen that's it's only Parkinson who put this expression on his face.

„How was your sleepover?“ I ask him, aiming for casual.

He's sitting at the breakfast table, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee.

„Good,“ he says. Smiling.

„How was your night out?“ he then asks and I can't decipher his expression.

„Not that good,“ I admit. „Ron is still heartbroken about Hermione and somehow... annoyed, or something, about Parkinson and I -“

Draco looks at me. Gray eyes knowing.

Does he know? He probably does. I'm not the most subtle person, I know that.

„And you?“

„And I was trying to pull this witch, but... I couldn't stop thinking about somebody else.“

My heart has gone into overdrive in half a second and part of me is afraid I might faint from the intensity of it.

„Weasley?“ he asks.

Maybe he doesn't know. I want him to. I need him to know.

„No. You.“

His lips part.

„Me?“

„Yes. I've been thinking about you. A lot. All the time.“

My heart is hammering and Draco is staring at me.

„Oh. I... didn't know.“

He frowns just a little.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage as I take one tentative step toward him.

„Can I kiss you?“

He looks at me. His eyes wander over my face.

Slowly, he gets up.

„Yes.“

It's wrong. It's wrong wrong wrong but I don't care.

I can't stop me. Not right now. Not with him saying Yes.

I'm there in a heartbeat, one hand on his waist, lightly. The other on his neck, even more lightly. I think I can feel his pulse, but maybe I'm just imagining that.

For a moment, I just breathe. Our faces are close. So close, our noses brush. Up close like this, Draco is even more beautiful. His eyes are like pools of smoke. He tilts his head a little and I kiss him. Our lips press together, softer than expected.

I draw back. Search his face.

Then I lean back in and he parts his lips a little. I let the tip of my tongue graze the inside of his bottom lip. His breath hitches.

When I slip my tongue into his mouth, I pull him closer and he opens his mouth wider. I kiss him with all I have now, all this pent up tension from weeks and weeks and weeks finally finding release. His hands carefully cup my face and I pull our bodies flush.

I draw back only when I have no oxygen left in my lungs.

He's looking at me calmly while my heart is still about to jump out of my chest.

„Hi,“ I say stupidly.

He smiles.

„You wanted to do this for a while,“ he says.

I nod.

„Why didn't you?“

„Because I was afraid you wouldn't.“

I pull back a little more to get a proper look at his face.

„Do you? Do you want me to?“

Instead of answering, he follows me, claiming my mouth again and I can't think anymore.

We kiss until my skin feels too tight and I'm so hard it's painful.

„I got to, um...“

I'm bright red as I smile awkwardly and pull back, completely this time.

Draco looks at me, his hair a mess from my hands, cheeks tinged pink, lips red and swollen. His eyes are wide and bright.

„You don't have to leave.“

„I really do.“

His gaze drops and I want to die of embarrassment.

„I can take care of that.“

There is this slightly confused expression on his face again when he can't understand why I'm doing what I'm doing.

„No, I...“

I really don't have the brain cells to handle this right now, so I just smile at him before fleeing the kitchen.

Once again, I find myself furiously wanking in the bathroom, coming after about forty seconds.

This time though, I'm smiling like a mad man.

* * *

Harry Potter has a fetish for kissing.

That much becomes clear to me during the week after that first, fateful encounter in the kitchen after his failed night out.

He's kissing me all the time. Whenever he can.

He'll walk into a room where I'm sitting and drop a kiss to my lips. He'll say goodnight to me and kiss me. He'll find me reading a book and plugging it out of my hands so he can kiss me until I'm breathless.

I've never kissed anyone this much.

I also never kissed anyone who liked kissing as much as the Gryffindor does. Part of me wants to tell myself that Harry really likes kissing me – me in particular. But I think it's more likely he just loves kissing.

I also suspect he has never kissed a man before, so that too might be an explaination for his proclivity for locking lips.

Still, no matter how much Harry might like kissing, I don't get why it's all we're doing. He's hard every time he's kissing me. And every time, I make it very clear that I'm perfectly equipped to take care of it. Any way he likes, if full on penetrative sex seems too gay for him.

But I honestly don't really believe that. Harry appears to be very chill with discovering his attraction to males.

Just another thing that makes him different from most men I know – including myself.

We're sitting on the couch together when he asks me: „Would you like to go flying with me sometime?“

„Yes.“

I miss flying. I haven't missed it in a long time, but now, that I'm starting to think about all the things I used to enjoy doing, flying is at the top of the list.

Harry smiles at me and his smiles are dangerous. They always remind me of before. Of how he used to get to me.

If I'm honest, all this kissing isn't helping with that either. At all.

I catch myself thinking about him at random times, almost like I used to in school. I shouldn't feel so warm whenever he touches me.

I can't like him. It would be the stupidest way to get hurt.

Harry is still looking at me.

„Kiss me?“ he asks, hopeful and shy and seductive, all at the same time.

He does that sometimes.

Some clients used to like ordering me around. I always hated that. It meant that it felt more like I wanted it. I couldn't just lie there and pretend to be somewhere else. I had to listen and then do as they said. I had to be present. I had to face the fact that I chose this life.

Not that there were many other options. But I did choose it, in the end.

When Harry asks me though... I can't manage to get grossed out. I can't manage to get angry.

Because I know that I do want it.

I lean in and kiss him and his hands come up, wrapping around my waist. The angle is awkward, so when he's mindlessly pulling me closer, I climb into his lap.  
He's hard, as always. His hands are running over my sides and I press myself against him, trying to signal he can go.

But Harry seems completely unable to take a hint.

He's just moaning a little and pulling at my waist and I'm at a loss with this man.

„Harry,“ I murmur against his lips.

His eyes fly open.

„Yes?“

„Do you want me?“

He closes his eyes again.

„Yeah. I do.“

„You can have me. I'm right here.“

He opens his eyes again. His fingers trace the shape of my face.

„Do you? Want me, I mean.“

„Yes.“

He frowns, just a little.

„Really? I just... I can't tell if you're honest or if you're just saying what you think I want to hear.“

I bite my lip and look down. The truth is, I don't know what I want. I'm not sure I know how to really want anyone anymore. But I do know that I want to make Harry happy.

And this will make him happy.

„I want you,“ I tell him and it doesn't feel wrong on my tongue.

I slide down, between his legs that part instinctively, until my knees hit the floor.

„You don't have to,“ he tells me, his voice wrecked.

I start unzipping him.

His hands around my wrists stop me.

He waits until I look at him.

„You don't have to, Draco. Do you know that?“

I nod.

I know he wouldn't force me if I said no. He'd find someone else. I can't bear the thought of him with someone else.

He lets go of my wrists and I reach into his pants.

I've seen so many dicks, I've lost count years ago. I've seen small and big ones, pretty and ugly, straight and curved. Harry's isn't the best I ever had. It's average in every way and that makes me smile. He's so not average in every other aspect that it seems hilarious that his dick is.

„Not impressed?“

Harry sounds torn between amusement and insecurity.

What am I thinking? Smiling at his dick as if I'd be laughing at him.

„Very impressed,“ I say hastily, trying to gloss over my mistake.

„Don't lie.“

He smiles at me and something in my chest hurts.

I get to work. Take him into my mouth and swirl my tongue and make sure to cover my teeth.

I could do this in my sleep and in no time, I have reduced Harry to a moaning, cursing mess.

Actually, he doesn't even moan and curse that much. I'm not sure if I'm doing something wrong. I hope he's just not the type for much noise.

„Draco,“ he moans and one hand comes to rest in my hair, not pulling or pushing, just... holding.

Something ignites behind my navel. Something hot and liquid and...

Harry comes before I can examine it any more closely. I make sure to swallow everything and when I look at Harry, at his blissed out face, I'm proud. Proud and... warm.

I put a hand to my belly. Part of me wants to chase that heat.

„Oh god,“ Harry sighs and pulls at my shoulder.

I get up and sit down next to him, smiling. I can't help it. Harry pulls me closer and I go willingly, snuggling against his chest. This is the best part. Having Harry hold me.

„What do you want?“

I blink, my bubble popped.

I look at him. He seems a little shy and very happy and incredibly eager.

„I'm not really – I'm new to the gay thing, but... I mean, I know a lot about wanking.“

His hand is wandering to my crotch before I can stop him. The moment it reaches its destination, his face freezes.

„You're not hard.

„I...“

Harry pulls back and leaves me cold and confused.

I wrap my arms around myself as he turns away from me, leaning his elbows on his thighs. Hiding his face in his hands.

„Fuck,“ he says and clearly, I did something wrong.

I don't know what though. Why is it that important that I'm hard? It was just a blow job. No one has ever truly expected me to get hard from that. Some liked to pretend. But nothing more.

„Harry?“

I reach out, one hand tentatively resting on his back. He jerks away from me as if I'd be contagious. The light inside of me shrivels away.

My skin is covered with grime and dirt.

Shame.

„I asked you if you wanted to.“

His eyes are gleaming bright.

„I did,“ I say, voice shaking.

„No, I don't think so. Fuck.“

I scoot away from him.

He looks exactly like a man a moment before he strikes.

„Sorry.“

His voice is quiet.

„I didn't mean to scare you, but... I'm not a mind-reader, okay? You have to tell me, if...“

He's looking at me and something in his face breaks. He looks betrayed.

He hates me now.

„You were just pretending? All the time? You never wanted me at all.“

I don't know what he wants me to say. If I say I did, he'll think I'm lying and get angry.

If I say I didn't, he'll get angry anyway.

I can't do right.

„Fuck,“ he says and gets up and walks out of the room.

Out on me.

Harry is avoiding me.

He's not speaking to me if he doesn't absolutely have to and he won't stay in the same room as me.

I feel like throwing up all the time. I've fucked this up, completely, totally and I don't know how to fix it. I miss it. I miss Harry. I miss Harry wanting to be close to me. I miss being close to him.

After a week, I can't bear it anymore and talk to Pansy. We're sitting in the apartment she's sharing with Weasley and she pours me tea.

„What is it, Draco?“

I take a deep breath. Then I tell her everything that happened. For a while, she doesn't say anyting. My fingers run over the soft cushions of the couch.

„Do you want him, Draco?

This is Pansy. I can be honest with her.

„I think I do. But I'm not sure how to want. I don't know if I can anymore.“

„Then tell him that. If Potter is the man he claims to be, he'll understand. If he truly likes you, you'll figure it out together. And if not, you come to me immediately, okay? Don't let him hurt you.“

„I don't think he would,“ I say and find, to my own surprise, that I believe it.

„I don't think so either. But he wants you.“

She doesn't have to say more. Men wanting me usually means they don't care about my wellbeing.

„I want to make him happy,“ I say.

„I know. But you shouldn't do things you don't want to do to do that.“

„It's not like I don't want him to touch me. I don't mind. But he got angry when he saw I wasn't hard.“

„I think not minding is not enough for him,“ Pansy says, wry smile.

Her face grows serious.

„And it shouldn't be for you, either, Draco.“

It's hard to start thinking about all of this in such a different way.

„Talk to him,“ Pansy says and before I can answer, the door opens.

„I brought pizza. Peperoni and...“

Weasley stops as he sees me.

„I was just about to leave,“ I say and get up.

Weasley shifts his weight.

„You don't have to.“

„It's fine.“

I smile at Pansy and squeeze her hand. Before I go, I throw Weasley a curious glance.

He bought Pansy's favorite pizza.

I'm lucky and catch Harry in the kitchen.

My heart starts beating faster. He notices me and heads toward the door.

„I need to check on -“

„Can we talk?“

I have never interrupted him before.

He glances at me. Then away.

„Okay. Fine.“

I take a deep breath. My palms are sweating.

„I'm sorry for last week,“ I begin.

Harry's eyes dart to mine.

„What?“

„I'm sorry for... I guess not being honest. But I do want to clear some things up.“

I have to count to ten. My fingers are twitching.

„I did want to. I wanted to kiss you. I like it when you kiss me.“

Now Harry is staring at me, hanging on my lips.

„And I did want everything else too. I just...“

I don't know how to say this.

I keep searching for words. Nothing fits. Everything is too embarrassing.

„You're not ready,“ he says and there it is again – the soft tone of his voice I missed so much.

I look down.

„Maybe. But it's more – I've never done it... for me. With someone I liked. Never because I wanted to.“

I look up, into his bright eyes.

„I don't know what wanting to feels like,“ I admit.

Harry doesn't run. He studies my face and I feel a little faint. But he doesn't seem angry anymore.

„I wanted to apologize to you too. It was my mistake, Draco. I should have known... After all you've been through, I shouldn't have expected you to be able to just tell me what you want. I feel like – I feel like I took advantage of you.“

He averts his eyes and it takes me a moment to realize he's ashamed. Ashamed and guilty.

Without even thinking about it, I reach out and touch his face. I stroke my finger over his cheekbones, his nose. My thumb is catching on his bottom lip. Smoothing over it.

He stares at me.

„You didn't. Honestly, Harry. I said yes. I meant it. I just don't really know yet... I want you in the way I'm capable of wanting you.“

The words fall from my lips without me knowing what I wanted to say. But it feels right.

Slowly, Harry's hands come up to my waist. Not pulling. Just touching me.

„Okay. Okay. I think I can work with that.“

Now he's smiling.

„I like you, Draco. I really like you.“

„Don't be daft,“ I shoot back.

I almost pull my hands away. But in the end I can't quite stop myself from touching him.

„I do. I really, really do. Draco.“

I can't listen to him. I can't think about it. It's not true, but I don't care.

„Whatever.“

I lean in.

Harry stops breathing.

When I kiss him, he doesn't move. He's just waiting.

I wrap my arms around his neck, our chests flush. I have to pry a little, nudge him with my tongue, until he finally opens his lips for me.

It's our best kiss yet.

Maybe because I'm doing it with intention, this time. All of our kisses have been good. But this one almost feels like more than just a kiss.

It feels like connecting.

I bump into one of Harry's older students on my way downstairs, where I know Pansy is waiting for me. It's the first time that happens. The boy must have lingered. He's not quite as tall as I am. Brown hair. Freckles.

„Oh, sorry,“ he says and I turn my head away.

My heart is beating with unease. Even though this is just one of Harry's students. He's younger than me. But his eyes flickering over me make me uncomfortable.

„I'll be on my way.“

He gallops down the stairs and I follow him on quiet feet.

Pansy raises one brow at me.

„Who was that?“

„One of Harry's students.“

I sit next to her on the couch.

„He was cute,“ she says.

I shrug.

„How is living with Weasley?“

Pansy rolls her eyes.

„Not that cute. He's not a clean person. And he doesn't cook.“

Then, she starts smirking.

„Watching him change though is bearable.“

„You're watching Weasley change?“

„Just once. Accidentally. He's normally pretty private. Probably a total bore in bed.“

„Harry and I are still kissing.“

Pansy blinks two times.

„Alright. Why?“

„Because it's nice. I want to make him happy.“

I look down at the cushion, rolling a loose thread between my fingers.

„He said he likes me.“

He did. He said that and I kissed him and now we're back to pulling each other closer in random parts of the house, kissing like teenagers. It's mostly Harry who does the pulling. Not only though.

„Do you think that's true?“

„No,“ I say decidedly. „There's no reason why he would... But I don't quite understand what it is he wants from me. He won't fuck me.“

Pansy studies me, wearing her thinking-face.

„Well. Maybe it is true. He has always been a little obsessed with you.“

I give her a look.

„There is absolutely nothing about me that might make Harry like me.“

„I mean, he hasn't yet kicked you out. He must like something about you.“

„I think he just pities me.“

Pansy frowns.

„You're not giving yourself enough credit, Draco. You're strong. You survived things others can't even imagine. You're actually not stupid – no, you're smart. And beautiful.“

I flap my hand.

„It must be the physical attraction. Harry is the kind of guy who'd confuse that for feelings. He's never been with a boy before.“

Pansy smiles like a cat.

„Sweet.“

I feel myself smile in return.

„Kind of, yes.“

Pansy's face grows serious again.

„But, seriously, Draco. You need to stop thinking of yourself the way they used to think about you.“

I look away, but Pansy grabs my wrist.

„If you don't believe you're worthy, no one else will. You need to start – I know, it sounds horrible, but you need to start loving yourself.“

I give her a look.

„Why would I love myself, Pansy? There is literally nothing to love about me.“

She swallows.

„I love you, Draco.“

„Because I'm the one you got stuck with.“

She shrugs. Her lashes are three times their normal length.

„Does it matter? I know you. And I love you. And now stop making me say all this sentimental bullshit.“

„I'm not making you.“

She sighs and lets go of my wrist.

„I want you to come with me to work tomorrow.“

* * *

When I get home after a little trip to the grocery store with Ron, Draco isn't there.

I find a note on the table, saying he's out with Pansy.

„That's nice,“ I say and Ron makes an indefinite groaning noise I check as agreement.

„Pansy's out a lot,“ he says, looking through my pantry.

„Draco isn't.“

I hand Ron a butterbeer.

„Cheers.“

We clink the bottles and Ron chugs half of his in one go. I turn my own in my hands, wondering how to approach this.

„Don't freak out, okay?“

The look Ron gives me doesn't reassure me much.

„I'll try. What is it?“

I take a deep breath.

„I think I like Draco.“

The old clock above the door is ticking.

„As in... more than friends?“ Ron asks.

I nod.

„I want to sleep with him.“

„Have you?“

Ron's knuckles around the bottle are white.

I hesitate.

„Kind of. Only once though. It was – I think it was too early.“

I flinch when Ron bangs the bottle on the table.

„Fuck, Harry! What the hell were you thinking?“

I didn't expect Ron to be thrilled, but this reaction is more intense than anticipated.

„It was just a blow job,“ I say, knowing I'm blushing.

„Harry, you do remember who that is, right?“

My eyes narrow.

„Don't tell me you think he's still the same boy he used to be. He's nothing like that anymore. He's kind now and patient and witty...“

„He is different because he's traumatized, Harry. Do you have any idea what they did to him?“

Ron's every muscles is tense. His blue eyes are blazing.

„They -“

„I found him with a man fucking him as if he'd wanted to bloody tear Malfoy apart. Raping him, essentially. The git has been used as a fucking sex doll for three years. When we brought him to St. Mungo's, they weren't even sure if they could properly heal him – that's what they did to him. Ask Malfoy when the last time was he could take a shit without squirming in pain.“

Deafening silence is ringing in my ears. My mouth tastes like blood. I must have bitten my tongue.

„Sorry,“ Ron says, not shouting anymore. „I didn't mean to hurt you. But you have to understand what you're dealing with. Malfoy trusts you. At least more than anyone else aside Pansy. You can't abuse that. Do you really want him to think he has to let you fuck him so he can stay?“

A tear is rolling down my cheek.

I have never felt worse in my life. Not even when Ron left us in that tent. Not even when Ginny broke up with me.

Not even walking into the Forbidden Forest.

Because never have I ever felt this guilty. More than that. I feel like a monster.

„You're right. I've been an idiot.“

Ron looks down.

„Yeah.“

He's sipping his butterbeer and I stare at mine. Ears still ringing.

„He's healed now, by the way. No physical remains of his abuse,“ Ron says.

I nod.

„That's good.“

My voice sounds distant.

„Harry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I just – man, I feel so bad for Malfoy. I promised him I'd protect him. When he was in St. Mungo's. I promised it was over.“

I meet Ron's eyes.

„I get it. You were right to say that.“

The front door opens and a minute later, Draco and Parkinson enter the kitchen. They're both smiling. Draco is wearing clothes I've never seen on him before. A tight black turtleneck jumper tucked into highwaisted jeans. He looks like a model.

„We were shopping,“ he tells me.

Smiling at me.

I try my very best to smile back.

„Good idea.“

I don't miss the way Parkinson looks at me.

Draco must have told her everything.

Did he say how disgusted he was when I first kissed him? Did he say how he hated it, going down on me? How irritated he was when I was surprised not to find him hard, because how in the hell would he get hard from giving me a blow job of necessity?

I sicken up.

I physically sicken up and hastily excuse myself. My lunch is splashing onto the white china of the toilet. When nothing comes up anymore, I rinse my mouth and sink to the cold floor, hands over my face.

I hate myself. I hate myself so fucking much.

I have no idea for how long I sit there, but eventually, there is a hesitant knock on the door.

„Harry?“

I almost start crying, hearing Draco's voice.

He opens the door and sees me sitting on the floor.

„What happened?“

His nostrils flare.

„Are you sick?“

He reaches for me, crouches down next to me. Wants to touch my face.

I push his hands away.

„I'm fine.“

„Sure?“

Gray eyes are blinking at me and I can't even look at him. I want him still.

I truly am a monster.

„I'll go to bed,“ I say and flee the bathroom, leaving Draco alone on the cold tiles.

„Did I do something wrong?“ Draco asks.

I know he's standing behind me in his new jeans and one of my old sweatshirts.

I take a deep breath and turn around.

„I'm sorry,“ I say.

„What for?“

The blond is searching my face.

„For... kissing you. Everything else. It's over now.“

Draco's eyes widen. His mouth twitches. He crosses his arms.

„Did I do somethig wrong?“ he asks again.

„No. I did.“

My heart is so heavy.

„I'm sorry, Draco.“

„Kissing me was wrong?“ he asks, voice flat.

I nod.

„I'm so sorry. I should have never done that. I... we can just forget it.“

I can't read Draco's face as he turns his head away. The always present line around his mouth deepens.

„Alright.“

Somehow, this feels wrong. His reaction is wrong.

„You can stay here, of course. We'll just...“

My words die on my tongue as he looks at me.

He's hurt. I just hurt him again.

„I have plans with Pansy today,“ he says.

His voice is still painfully flat.

„Oh. Okay. Have fun.“

He turns and walks out of the door.

And I stand there and watch him leave, wondering where the hell I went wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of hurt and angst in this chapter - I'm really sorry! 
> 
> I really hope you're all staying safe and sane in those crazy times. Sending my love to all of you <3

My heels are clicking on the asphalt on my way to Grimmauld Place. Anger is warming me up from the inside, boiling my blood.

I'm ready to teach Harry fucking Potter a lesson.

Even though I think Draco got it all wrong.

I smooth my straight hair down before I press the doorbell. Potter takes his time to open and when he does, he looks completely disoriented.

„Hi, Parkinson. Draco isn't here. I thought he was...“

„With me, yes. Can I come in?“

He blinks at me and steps aside. The man is a hot mess in his jumper full of holes and his ill-fitting jeans.

Draco is honestly too pretty for him.

But attraction is as irrational as affection often is.

„Can we talk?“

He swallows. But being the good Gryffindor he is, he nods.

„What did you say to Draco? Or, actually, why did you tell him it's over?“

Potter looks at his shoes. „I'm sorry.“

„That doesn't answer my question. Did you grow bored? Did you momentarily forget he's been a whore and then you remembered again and decided you couldn't handle it? Was that it?“

The green of his jumper is a faded version of his eyes as they look at me in confusion.

Potter really is a baby. Completely clueless.

„No! No, I... Look, Ron talked to me. He helped me realize – I shouldn't have pursued anything with Draco. I know he's not ready and... he lives in my house and I don't want him to feel like he has to pay me.“

So I was right.

I'm relieved, I guess. Potter is a good person. An idiot, but a good person.

„So you just let Ron decide over what Draco wants?“

Dark brows knit together in a frown.

„No, that's not...“

„That's exactly what you did. Ron tells you Draco isn't ready and, boom, you believe him. Without even asking Draco.“

„I mean, we did talk about it. A little. He said... he doesn't know if he can want.“

„And that's too difficult for you?“

„No, I just don't want to hurt him.“

I sigh.

„That's nice. I guess. But you have to make up your mind, Potter. Do you like Draco? Or are you just attracted to him? If it's the latter, back the fuck off. If it's the first, make a move. The right one, of course.“

He's staring at me with those big eyes of his.

As I said.

Total baby, the man.

Kind of cute though. I can see why Draco likes him. He's always been a romantic at heart.

„I like Draco,“ Potter says and I believe him.

At least I believe that he believes it. Which is enough for now.

„Brilliant. Then talk to Draco. Establish boundaries. Ask him what he wants and make it work.“

Potter gives me an even look and for a moment, I can see a glimpse of the boy that saved us all from doom.

„I'm not sure Draco knows what he wants. And even if he does, I can never be sure he tells me.“

„I'm not saying Draco is easy. Of course he isn't. No one would be after going through what he's been through. But I think he really likes you, Potter. He always has.“

Now I got his attention.

I know I'm on thin ice here. Draco wouldn't want me to tell Potter – even though it hardly matters anymore. But it might to Potter. It might convince him that Draco's feelings are real.

„Always? What do you mean?“

„What do you think why he kept coming at you in school?“

I'm not technically telling him anything new. But, of course, even Potter, the thick idiot, got the hint. I feel bad. Draco would kill me if he knew.

„Don't tell Draco I said that.“

„I won't.“

He studies my face.

„I'll be off then. Stay here. I'll send Draco over.“

„Thank you.“ He sounds sincere.

„I'm doing this for Draco.“

I'm half out of the door when he calls after me.

„Parkinson?“

I turn around and arch an eyebrow.

„Call me Harry, please.“

* * *

I'm quiet as I slip through the door. I'm not sure I want to talk to Harry, despite whatever Pansy said.

„Draco?“

He's standing in the entry hall, looking at me. I avoid his gaze and put my coat on the coat rack.

„Can we talk?“

I hesitate, then give him a short nod. He leads the way to the living room and the couch.

We've kissed here before. I blew him here and then it all went spiraling downwards. Because I'm fucked up in my head.

„What?“ I ask him, knowing I sound like a git. But I can't help it.

Hurt is pulsing in my chest like a second heart.

„Look, I – Do you like me, Draco?“

I stare at him.

„You just told me you don't want me anymore. Is that how you get off? Rejecting me?“

Harry flinches.

„No. I'm just – I don't know how to do this. I like you. I told you before; I really like you. And I want you. But maybe that's wrong.“

He looks so unsure. Young.

„Why would it be wrong?“

„Because I think you need a friend. Not someone who wants to be your lover.“

„I already have a friend.“

I look at him now. My legs are tucked under and I tug at the sleeve of my jumper.

„I feel like violating you. I don't want to sleep with you if you can't even get hard from me touching you,“ he says.

I tug at the sleeve harder. My skin is crawling.

„I understand.“

„Draco?“

I don't look at him.

„I understand if you don't want to.“

„But you do?“

I swallow.

There is this black hole inside my chest, my stomach. There is the numbness in my limbs. There is the grime covering my skin.

„I do. I'm just not sure I...“

I'm not sure I could ever really feel pleasure again.

What a foreign word. Pleasure.

It used to be this word full of mystery and promise. The hint of something beautiful when I would be touching myself, grazing the surface of what it meant.

Now it scares me.

„You're not sure you...?“ Harry prompts. His voice is gentle.

„I don't wank,“ I say.

I'm not looking at him.

He's not even there. I'm telling the wall across the room.

„Okay.“

„I can't. It's like my body doesn't belong to me anymore.“

I know Harry is looking at me.

„It does, Draco.“

His voice is thick.

„No. Not really.“

Now I do look at him.

„I want to please you, Harry. I genuinely do. I just can't promise you that you'll be able to please me. I can't even please myself.“

To my utter shock, there are tears in Harry's eyes.

„Okay. Okay,“ he says. „And what about the rest?“

I blink. „What do you mean?“

He tilts his head.

„What about... you know. Dates. Kissing in front of our friends. Watching movies together. Goodnight kisses. What about that?“

The corner of a smile spreads on my lips.

„I feel like we're already doing most of those things.“

Harry grins back.

„I guess we are. But... do you want to?“

I frown a little. My heart is hammering.

„Do I want to do those things?“

„Do you want to be my boyfriend.“

My heart stumbles.

„What... what does that mean? Being your boyfriend.“

Harry seems to think about it.

„I don't know. To me, just... spending time together. Kissing. Maybe sleeping in the same bed, if you want to. And – oh, yeah. I'd want to be exclusive.“

He looks at me worriedly.

„You mean you don't want me to sleep with other people?“

He nods.

I smile faintly.

„I think I can do that.“

I hope he catches the irony in my voice.

As if I'd want to sleep with other people.

„What about you?“ I dare ask.

He blinks.

„What do you mean?“

„Would you be sleeping with other people?“

„Oh. No. Of course not. Exclusivity works both ways.“

„Why would you want that?“

„To be exclusive?“

I nod.

„Because I want to be with you. And that's part of it, for me at least. Also, I really don't want to have sex with anyone else.“

„Then you're stupid,“ I tell him and look away.

„I can be, but not about this.“

Harry reaches out and laces our fingers together.

I've never held anyone's hand. No one's but Pansy's. It's a nice feeling. His palms are warm and his fingers a little calloused. Thicker than mine, but still – not pretty, but shapely.

„You don't even know if you like having sex with men,“ I point out.

„I'm positive,“ he says and he sounds so convinced that I have to smile.

„Okay, Harry. If you really want that.“

He smiles.

„I really want that. If you do too.“

I nod, not really able to say anything. Tentatively, almost shy, he scoots closer.

I smile. Widely. He waits there. Hovering.

„What is it, Potter?“

„Hm?“

„Kiss me, idiot.“

* * *

It's been four weeks of Draco being my boyfriend and I know that it's time to tell Ron. I'm not exactly looking forward to it – not after the way he reacted last time.  
But I want him to know. He's my best friend, afterall. And Draco just became – well, maybe not the most important thing in my life, but definitely the thing that makes me happiest at the moment.

I don't want to hide that from Ron.

When I meet him for a pint on a Friday evening, it's not easy to keep my hands still.

Ron looks tired from work, but happy to see me.

„How's it going?“ he asks with a smile and my nerves are fluttering, palms sweaty.

If Ron says he doesn't approve, I don't know what to do.

We order drinks and Ron insists on some snacks that I am too anxious to eat.

„What's up with you?“ he asks me, blue eyes scanning my face.

He's grown a lot more perceptive since he became an Auror.

„I have to tell you something. Please don't freak out.“

Part of me thinks he already knows.

„Okay. Shoot.“

I take a deep breath.

„Draco is my boyfriend. We're together.“

Ron makes a weird noise, something like hmph and then inhales.

„Merlin, Harry. Seriously?“

„Yeah. I'm serious about him, Ron. I really like him. A lot.“

When he doesn't say anything, I bite my lip and ask: „You can't accept it at all?“

He rubs his face and sighs. Takes a gulp from his glass.

„I can accept it if I have to.“

His eyes are searching mine. I meet his gaze without blinking.

„You're sure about it?“

„Yes. Very sure. He's... special. He makes me feel – God, I know it sounds so cliché, but he makes me feel like no one else ever has before.“

Ron sighs deeply.

„I'm still not convinced. I don't think Malfoy's ready. But both of you make their own decisions. Just make sure you're respecting his.“

„I am. Ron, don't you think it's as important to me as it is to you that he feels safe with me?“

„No, I know.“

Ron's features finally soften.

„I know you're a good guy, Harry. That's not why I'm concerened.“

„You're just not sure if Draco is capable of having a relationship right now.“

„Yeah.“

„Don't worry, we're taking it slow,“ I say.

We are.

We're snogging each other senseless at least once a day and I make sure to keep my hands to myself, even though Draco doesn't always. I think he still doesn't understand why I won't shag him, but he doesn't complain.

Nothing really happened in those for weeks.

Well, except – except for one night on our couch. I'm blushing thinking about it.

My lips trailing over Draco's throat. My hands tracing the outline of his slowly rising cock through his trousers.

„Like that, darling?“ I whispered into his ears and he moaned.

It was the first time I heard him make a sound and it almost had me coming.

Neither of us did that night – at least not on the couch. I wanked myself raw later on, safely locked in the bathroom, thinking of that sound.

„Good,“ Ron says, bringing me back to reality.

„So... you're okay with it?“ I ask.

„I guess I have no other choice.“

„Thanks, Ron,“ I say earnestly and he nods.

„Have you told Hermione?“ he asks and I almost spit butterbeer over the table.

It's been weeks since Ron has mentioned her. Months since he has mentioned her without the intention to blow off steam.

„Yesterday. She thinks it's fine,“ I say cautiously.

„How is she?“

I'm not sure what to make of this. If it's a step forward or backward.

„Okay, I think. She's working a lot.“

„Makes sense,“ he says and then he changes the topic and we spend the rest of the night talking about Quidditch and laughing like the old friends we are.

When I get home, the house is quiet.

It's late, past two a.m. 

"Draco?"

He's not in his bed. Also not in the living room, where he often waits for me. Not in the bathroom or the kitchen. 

I know that I shouldn't freak out. Afterall, Draco is a grown man. It's not like he couldn't stay out over night. Just... I have a bad feeling about this.

When I try reaching him with my galleon, I don't get a response. I have no way of knowing if he felt the coin heating up.

He doesn't answer when I send him a Patronus.

I try Parkinson next and she answers almost immediately, saying Draco isn't with her. I try to quelch the growing worry in my chest. There are probably several explainations for this.

I just can't think of any.

My heart is hammering in my chest now.

For the third time tonight, I call for my stag.

„Ron, I need your help.“

* * *

They come for me the second I step out of the door. They shouldn't know I'm here, but someone must have told them. I try to fight as they overwhelm me, but I'm nothing without my wand. They stun me before I can even scream for help

I wake up in someone's basement, chained to a chair.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage. They are not be the same men who took me years ago (those are rotting in Azkaban), but they might as well be. They belong to the same group – like extended relatives.

„We're gonna get a good price for Potter's whore,“ they say.

Tall men. Strong.

My brain is already blurring their faces. It's easier that way.

„Tell us some dirty details about him. The Prophet will want to hear that.“

„There's nothing to tell,“ I say, surprised that my voice carries.

My wrists hurt. So do my ankles.

They force Verita Serum down my throat. It's not too bad. There are worse things I've already been forced to swallow.

It doesn't take them long.

„You gotta be kidding me,“ one of the three says.

„He thinks he wasn't his whore.“

„You didn't shag?“ another asks me, vice-like grip on my shoulder.

„I blew him once,“ I tell them, even though I don't want to.

It's not good enough for them, but they can't change my truth.

„We'll just make something up.“

The man looks into my face. His mouth is cruel.

„Something real fucked up, so he won't come looking for you.“

I swallow.

„He will,“ I say.

I didn't know that I believed that.

But apparently I do.

„Don't kid yourself,“ I'm told and they leave me in the dark.

When they come back, they feed me some water. I almost choke on it and I'm sure that's exactly what they intended.

They untie my right wrist.

„Sign this,“ one of them says and shoves a quill into my hand.

„What is that?“

„A letter to the Prophet, saying that Potter not only likes to fuck blokes, but especially loves taking it up the ass from a Death Eater.“

„I won't sign that.“

But of course I do.

I do after I'm untied with a spell and pushed to my knees and fucked until I'm bleeding.

I can't help but scream. It's been too long. They don't prepare me.

„If you don't want us to do that again, you'll sign,“ the tallest one says and I sign the parchment – my hand trembling so much, my name is hardly recognizable.

They bring me to a room afterward, where I curl up on the hard bed and pretend I'm dead. It doesn't work as well as it usually does. My body hurts. It shouldn't be possible, but it seems like I forgot what that feels like. To be taken without preperation, to be called cunt and pounded into mercilessly.

It's almost like it was in the beginning.

I flinch as the door opens, curling into a tight ball. Trembling all over.

„Where's the other one?“ the man asks me.

At first, I don't know what he's talking about. He grabs my wrists and forces me to sit. To look at him.

„Where's the other one?“ he repeats and slaps me.

„The girl,“ he says and now I understand.

„I don't know,“ I lie.

With a jolt of white hot panic, I remember the Verita Serum. I blink at him with watery eyes.

„Potter only had me,“ I say, feigning ignorance.

„There was a girl with you,“ he says, crushing my wrists with his fingers.

„There were many girls with me. I could describe some for you,“ I say.

I don't have to fake my fear.

„I also remember some stage names,“ I babble on.

Hooded dark eyes give me another assessing look.

„Whatever, slut,“ he says and pushes me back onto the bed.

This time, when his body is moving over me, I'm somewhere else completely.

I'm thirteen again, on vacation in France with Pansy.

We're at the beach, watching the waves licking at our ankles. Our parents are back at the mansion, having fruit and éclairs, talking about politics and how beautiful our mothers are.

Pansy's hair is long, not short like – her hair is long, almost at her waist. The salt gives it volume, makes it frizzy.

„Race me to the first rock?“ she asks, brown eyes gleaming.

„You know I'll win.“

I'm the better swimmer. Pansy bests me in almost everything else, but in the water, I'm the star.

„Then you've got nothing to worry about, do you?“

She grins at me, a little devil.

This year, she's not wearing a black bathing suit like she always used to. She switched it for a white bikini just as she threw out her thin vests and filled the empty closet space with lacey bras she doesn't need.

We run into the sea, waves hitting our pale chests. My own is almost as narrow as hers is.

I dive in, leave her behind. I don't count the time until I reach the rock. When I turn my head, my eyes are burning from salt.

„Pansy?“

I can't see her.

She isn't behind me.

„Pansy?“

I count to ten, waiting for her to surface again.

She doesn't.

Adrenalin is rushing through my veins.

„Pansy!“

That's when I see her. Way too far left – way too close to the dangerous current she should know is there.

I cut my foot as I push away from the rock, my strokes fast and controlled.

I grab her wrist.

„You fool!“ I shout, water in my mouth, my lungs.

Her eyes are wide. I pull her behind me, to our rock.

„Maybe I'll marry you afterall,“ she says, clinging to me with cold arms.

„I won't marry you,“ I tell her, squeezing her.

She blinks up at me.

„What if I help you pick out all the prettiest boys around to invite to our huge dinner parties?“

I grin.

„You could snog Blaise while I flirt with all of them.“

She grins back at me, her magically straightened teeth white.

„And when they're all gone, we'll eat the leftover cake and drink elven wine.“

I lift my hand and she shakes it.

„Deal.“

„There was a girl with you when they brought you to Potter,“ one of my captors tells me.

It's the only one who hasn't fucked me again since that time in the basement. I hardly ever see him.

I blink.

„I don't really remember. I didn't know her,“ I say.

He narrows his eyes at me.

„You gotta know her. She was with you at Craig's.“

„Maybe I'd recognize her if I saw her. But I don't know her name. I hardly ever left my room.“

He's not convinced.

I'm praying Pansy isn't that important to them. She can't be – they didn't dose me with Verita Serum again. Maybe the just ran out of supplies. It's not that easy to get your hands on any.

„They'll put you to work tomorrow,“ he says.

I nod.

I try not to be affected. In the end, it doesn't matter who is splitting me open. Some of the clients will probably be easier than my captors.

„Do you need alcohol? Or maybe Dreamscales?“

I stay silent. I don't know why he'd offer me that. Whores usually only get any sort of drugs when clients start complaining about their behaviour. Maybe it's a trick.  
Better I don't answer.

The man sighs.

„I'll get you a bottle of Odgen's.“

* * *

I want to go by myself. Relying on others isn't something I do well with. But I also know that I can't do it alone.

So I'll have to trust a Weasley.

And the Chosen One.

„You're sure?“

Potter looks just as on-edge as he did the last three days. Sometimes, I want to scream into his stupid face that he doesn't have a clue what it's like – he hasn't loved Draco for as long as I have.

But rationally, I know I should be glad – very glad, in fact, that he cares.

As I said – I couldn't do it without them.

„Fairly,“ he says.

Thank heaven for Granger's Galleons. Tracking Draco's wasn't too hard.

We're all drawing our wands. Ron gave me one. It would have been the best day of my life, wasn't it for my best friend being back in the hands of filth.

I vowed to myself I'd protect him.

Very reliable, aren't I?

* * *

I count to ten.

It doesn't matter who will come through this door. I'll be elsewhere.

I count to ten.

Steps downstairs. Steps of several people. I stare at the bottle of Odgen's. I didn't open it. I don't know why. Maybe because I know I don't need it to leave my body behind. Maybe because I want to stay clear-headed when they ask me about Pansy again. It must be the reason why the man brought me the bottle in the first place.

More steps.

I count to ten.

„Incarcerus!“

I blink and lift my head. Those words don't fit the script. I sit up on the bed and listen.

„Where is he?“

A groan in pain.

„Upstairs,“ one of the men says.

Footsteps. People running. The person asking about me – I know who it was. I know that voice. I -

„Draco!“

My door flies open.

Green eyes find mine and for a moment, I think I must be hallucinating. It happened to me before. It would certainly be more likely than the actual Harry Potter standing in the doorframe. He's rushing over, eyes scanning my body.

„Oh my god, are you -“

„We have to leave.“

That's Pansy – Pansy and Weasley.

Maybe I really am dreaming.

„Can you walk?“

I nod, even though I'm not sure. I'm only wearing a flimsy robe and I'm cold already. Everything still hurts.

Harry helps me up and I follow him downstairs, into an ugly living room. Two tied up men are lying on the carpet.

Only two.

I whirl around and push Harry so that the curse misses his head.

It's Weasley who stuns the last one.

„Bring Malfoy to the hospital. I'll wait here for backup,“ he says and Harry and Pansy nod.

Black dots are dancing in front of my eyes. That turn seems to have been too much. My knees go weak.

„He's fainting,“ Pansy says.

I can't see her face anymore.

„I've got you,“ Harry says.

Strong arms are enveloping me. Lifting me up.

As I feel the familiar pull of apparition, my mind collapses and everything is fading into darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Pansy's POV**

Ron finds me in the corridor where Draco's room is. He's looking tired, his shirt partly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up.

„How is he?“ he asks, coming up next to me.

„He'll heal,“ I say.

I don't want to think about what has been done to him. Again.

„They'll release him tomorrow,“ I say and Ron nods.

„Fuck,“ he sighs.

„Yes,“ I agree, wrapping my arms around myself.

I try to keep it all at bay, but it's hard. I'm shaking.

„Pansy? Are you okay?“

Ron's eyes express concern. I can't deal with it.

„Brilliant,“ I press out.

A tentative hand settles on my shoulder.

„We got the assholes that did this. They'll never leave Azkaban again.“

„Good.“

„We'll help Malfoy.“

I glare up at him. He's a good foot taller than I am, but I have never let that intimidate me.

„You can't help him, Ron. Not even I can.“

The shaking worsens.

„He's strong. I know he'll get through.“

„I know that! I fucking know that better than you. But do you have any idea what has been done to him? Over and over and over again? Do you know what it feels like?“

„No.“ His voice is quiet. „I don't know what it's like. But you and Malfoy are the strongest people I know.“

„We have to be,“ I say.

But I don't feel strong at all. I failed. I failed to protect Draco and I failed to protect myself.

When Ron tries to hug me with his long, clumsy arms, I push him away. He blushes and shifts his weight and clearly wants to die of mortification. I step closer again and wrap my arms around his waist. He hugs me back and I breathe in the scent that has become so familiar over the last weeks: milk and leather and boy.

„He'll get through,“ the ginger murmurs and I choose to believe him.

If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to leave this floor ever again.

* * *

I wake up to dull pain and soft sheets.

Sunlight tells me it's daytime – but I don't know where I am. The smell is... hospital.

I blink my eyes open. The first thing I see is a slumped figure on a chair. As I'm looking, the man rightens himself, eyes finding mine.

„Draco?“

It's Harry. Harry with red rimmed eyes and stubble.

„Hey,“ I say. My voice feels foreign.

Unease is overcoming me. My eyes are darting from one corner to the other.

Where are the men?

„You're okay. You're safe, Draco. We brought you to the hospital. I stayed with you all night.“

I can't quite follow him.

Half my brain is busy fighting the images of hands pulling at me – palms leaving red and blue marks on my skin. Men forcing themselves inside me. Tearing me open.

My breathing quickens. I have to stop thinking.

I count to ten.

Someone takes my hand.

„Draco, it's okay. I've got you.“

Harry's voice sounds broken, but his hand is warm. Warm and strong.

He's stupid to touch me. I can still feel the skin of others on mine. Defiling me. But if he'd let go now, I think I'd die. Just like that.

„I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you.“

„It's not your fault,“ I tell him.

I don't think he believes me.

* * *

I'm allowed to take Draco home after the morning check-up and the first thing he does is breaking Parkinson's heart.

„I'll go with him,“ she says, all determination.

Draco shakes his head, not looking at her. Her face falters.

„It's me. Pansy,“ she says.

But he just keeps shaking his head. Holding my hand.

Pansy's staring at him and nothing of her usual strength is left. Ron gently leads her away.

„Do you maybe want to shower?“ I ask Draco as we're home in the huge, empty house.

„Or take a bath?“

Draco won't really look at me, but he nods lightly.

I put in a lot of effort to get the temperature exactly right, to pick out the softest foam and fill the bathroom with the scent of lavender.

„Do you want me to go?“

I don't know what's right. I don't want to leave Draco, not even for a second, but maybe he's not comfortable with me seeing him naked. The last thing I want is for him to be scared of me. He doesn't react to my question and I decide that I should probably better leave. I only make it half-way through the room before Draco says: „Please stay.“

So that's what I do.

I've never seen Draco naked before and part of my brain registers how absolutely gorgeous he is – all long legs and his back a perfect curve. But most of my brain is busy processing all the bruises on his body. Most are fading from healing spells.

He flinches a little as he sits down. He's just sitting there in the hot water, not doing anything. I think I can see his lips moving.

„Draco?“ I ask after several minutes.

He glances at me, then away again.

„Can I wash your hair?“

His eyes are on me as I reach for the shampoo bottle. I'm as careful as I'm at all able to, gently massaging his scalp and making sure every inch is coated with foamy shampoo. It feels like a miracle when Draco relaxes. Not fully, but a little. My clothes are getting wet as I lean in, as I rinse out his silky hair, but I don't care.  
When his hair is clean and Draco a little less tense, I remember an advise Parkinson gave me.

„Do you want me to read to you?“ I ask him timidly.

Draco's eyes open.

„Read to me?“

„Yeah. I know you're reading one of my books.“

That's technically not true – the books Draco thinks belong to me are actually Hermione's. I don't really read much, but I quickly picked up on the fact that Draco does. So I raided Hermione's personal liberary and brought the books here.

„If you want to,“ he says.

„I asked if you want to,“ I say gently.

Draco looks at me. His eyes are so sad, they almost make me cry. I can practically see him searching for the right answer, his mind too foggy to find it.

„Just be honest, okay? Remember how we said we always want to be honest? You don't have to try to please me.“

Draco swallows.

„Read to me, Harry.“

I'm not a great reader. I stumble over words and sometimes get the pronounciation wrong, but for Draco, I gladly try.

The book I'm reading to him is a muggle love story. A tragic one, actually – but beautiful.

Maybe it's good for Draco to hear that. What it can feel like.

He falls asleep listening to me.

Draco won't eat dinner and he goes to bed early.

I want to be with him, but I know I can't disrespect his privacy and go to my own room – too anxious to sleep. When I hear him screaming, I'm there in a heartbeat. Holding him. He feels fragile in my arms, despite not being as thin as he used to be.

„It'll all be okay,“ I say, stroking his hair and breaking along with him.

„Can you sleep here?“ he asks me and I'm so relieved that I almost cry.

I hold Draco and eventually, I can feel him drifting off. I stay awake until the early morning hours, just feeling him breathe.

The first two weeks after we freed Draco are very quiet. I cancel all of my lessons and no one comes to see us. I don't want to see anyone. I just want to be there for Draco. He sleeps a lot and when he doesn't sleep, he usually curls up in a ball, staring into nothingness. Sometimes counting. I read to him everyday and on the fifth day, he reads a chapter to me.

Of course, he's a million times better at it than I am.

I cook all his favorite things for him and he starts eating again.

„You don't have to stay with me,“ he says to me after ten days or so.

We're lying in his bed, my body curled protectively around his.

„What do you mean?“

„You don't have to take care of me,“ he tells the darkness. „I won't die. You're not responsible.“

„I want to take care of you. I want to be close to you.“

I love you, I want to say. But somehow, I know this isn't the right time.

He sighs.

„If you're going to leave, I'd rather you did it now.“

I frown and scoot away a bit, so I can look into his eyes.

„What are you talking about? I don't want to leave.“

His eyes are almost silver in the moonlight.

„You'd be mad not to. I'm not worth the trouble, Harry.“

„Yes you are. You are to me. Leaving you is the last thing I want.“

He blinks at me.

All I want is to banish the sadness from his eyes.

„Hey,“ I say. Quietly.

I lean forward. His eyes drop to my lips. Then meet mine again.

I kiss him, lightly. Briefly.

„I won't leave.“

He sighs. Lifts one hand and traces my cheeks with one finger.

„Alright,“ he says and then turns around again, pulling one of my arms with him.

After two weeks, Draco finally wants to see Pansy, so I go see Ron.

„It was one of your students,“ he tells me. „He spied for those assholes.“

„Do you know who?“

Ron nods. „We interrogated all of them. He cracked pretty quickly. They didn't pay him enough.“

„How's Malfoy?“ he asks.

We're sitting at my kitchen table.

„Regarding the circumstances – better than expected.“

He's better than when he first came to live with me.

„He's so fucking strong,“ I say.

Ron just nods.

„How's Parkinson?“

I take a sip from my coffee.

„Terrible. She's yelling at me all day. Not being able to talk to Draco is not something she can handle very well.“

Ron crooks a smile and his eyes are so full of compassion, it makes me wonder.

„I'm sure she'll feel better after today.“

„Let's hope so. She already broke two of my favorite mugs.“

„Harry?“

I look up from my lesson plan.

It's still rare that Draco directly addresses me.

„Yeah?“

He has put the book down that he was reading.

„Was there... an article about you? In the Prophet?“

Of course, I immediately know what article he's talking about.

I smile wryly.

„Oh, yeah. Apparently, I'm very much into bondage. I'm also a hard bottom and have a thing for a certain blond.“

Draco closes his eyes and grimaces.

„I'm really sorry about that. I didn't want to sign that, but they...“

He trails off. I smile at him, wanting to pull him close, but not sure if it would make him uncomfortable. We don't touch much during the day.

„I mean, they got one out of three right. So not the worst I've ever had written about me.“

Draco's mouth twitches.

„I'm still sorry.“

„It wasn't your fault at all. And I don't care what they write about me. If there are now some losers out their jerking off to thinking about me getting spanked – so be it. It doesn't matter to me.“

Draco is still looking at me, which is rare and wonderful.

Not to test my luck, I continue with my plans. Draco is slowly scooting closer to me on the couch until our shoulders are touching. I hold my breath, then slowly lift my arm and drape it loosley around Draco. The blond leans his head against my chest and I pull him closer.

We sit like that until way past midnight.

„I'd like to take you on a date,“ I say one Saturday morning. „There's a fair and I'd love to go there with you.“

Draco blinks at me.

„You like fairs?“

I shrug.

„I didn't really get to go as a kid, so... yeah.“

I get another long look out of gray eyes.

„Alright. I'll go with you.“

We both pretend as if it wouldn't be a big deal, Draco going out with me. As if he'd be wearing his black turtleneck jumper every other day and not only walk around in sweats.

„You look good,“ I tell him before we go.

He turns his head away.

„Let's go, Potter.“

I make Draco do everything with me – all the kids' stuff I'm way too old for.

We're walking hand in hand and it's cold and sunny and if it was up to me, we'd stay here forever.

The Ferris Wheel might be the highlight – watching Draco watching London, cheeks tinged pink and blond hair slightly messy might just be my favorite sight.

„I want cotton candy,“ I tell Draco when we leave the wheel and he lifts one amused eyebrow at me.

„How old are you again?“

„Gotta make up for childhood trauma somehow, don't I?“

It was meant to be a joke, but Draco's face goes all sad.

„Hey, it's fine. I'm good.“

The last thing I want to do is upset my beautiful boyfriend that is finally going out again.

Draco looks at me and just says: „I'll buy you cotton candy.“

He does, the traditional pink one, and it tastes like pure sugar and makes my whole face sticky.

And Draco smile.

„Are you laughing at me?“ I ask, laughing myself.

He shakes his head and his eyes are gleaming with mirth. When he wraps his arms around my neck, my mouth is still half glued with the candy. Draco kisses me and the world stops spinning. He pulls back a little.

„You're sticky,“ he complains.

„Sorry,“ I say dumbly.

He hasn't kissed me in months. We've hardly kissed at all.

He's still smiling and leans in, licking over my lips.

„But at least you taste good.“

My heart is flying right at him. I wonder if he knows he has it in the palm of his elegant pureblood hands.

He kisses me again, properly this time, and there's no one else but us around. Our chins are sticking together a little and our lips are cold, but I forget about all of it with our tongues dancing. He pulls away, eyes on mine. I almost forgot how much I love seeing him up-close.

„You're beautiful,“ he tells me.

I can't stop looking at him.

„Thinking about those terrible relatives of yours... it makes me want to give you the world, Harry. Everything I have.“

My heart is too big for my chest.

„I love you, Draco,“ I say.

He freezes for a moment.

Then he's kissing me again, kissing me as if I was everything. Everything to him.

„I want to start working with Pansy,“ Draco tells me one night after we had dinner with Ron and Pansy.

„At the fashion store?“

„Yes.“

„Nice. You'll be good at that,“ I say.

Draco loves fashion. I'm convinced he hasn't expressed half of his style yet. But we're working on it.

„I'm not sure I can do it,“ he says, quietly. „There will be so many strangers.“

He still flinches whenever he ecounters a man he doesn't know. It breaks my heart every time.

„Pansy will be there,“ I remind him.

„Not always.“

„I know you can do it. But, you know – it doesn't have to be today. You can start whenever you feel ready.“

I come back from a dinner with Ron to find Parkinson and Draco laughing on the couch together.

„Am I bothering you two?“ I ask, smiling.

Parkinson grins and stretches like a cat.

„Nah, I promised Ron to be home for a movie night,“ she says.

Draco gives her a look.

„Okay,“ I say.

„Have a good night.“

She kisses Draco's cheek and nods at me, throwing green powder into the fireplace.

I sit next to Draco.

„How was dinner?“ he asks me.

„Pretty nice. I think maybe Ron and Hermione will start talking again. Which would be really, really good. I'm so tired of always having to watch what I'm saying.“

Draco smiles at me and scoots closer.

„And your evening?“ I ask.

He kisses my cheek and heat is instantly pooling in my belly. I'm still as terrible as ever around him. I just got very good at ignoring it.

„It was good,“ he just says and then swings a leg over mine, straddling my thighs.

„Draco?“

„Yes?“

My hands instantly find his waist, but I manage to frown at him.

„What is this?“

He bites his lip, but doesn't look down.

„I've wanked yesterday,“ he tells me. „Thinking about you.“

All the blood in my body rushes south so quickly that my head goes fuzzy.

„Oh,“ I say and Draco grins at me.

He leans down and kisses me and I pull him closer.

When he starts rolling his hips against me though, I stop him with gentle hands on his upper arms.

„Draco,“ I say, trying to ground myself. „Are you sure?“

„Yes. I want to. I mean... we can go slow, right?“

Utter certainty fades into slight uncertainty. I stroke up and down his arms.

„We can do whatever you want, darling.“

His confident smile returns.

„Good.“

He goes back to kissing me and I let him move against me, just trying not to come into my pants. His hands find my zipper and open my denims. I kiss his jaw.

„Sure you want to?“

„I want to get you off,“ he tells me.

„I want to get you off too.“

I blink at him, then return to kissing along his jawline.

He sighs – a soft, pretty sound.

„Let me go first.“

I let him. I let him wrap his hands around me and I'm so desperate for this, I know he could make me come in two strokes.

„Is it okay... like this?“ he asks into my ear and I nod feverishly.

I make it a little difficult for him to move his arm because I keep pulling him closer, moaning into his neck. But he manages and as I expected, I come in no time at all. He kisses me, butterfly kisses all over my face, while my breathing slows.

„My turn?“

I make it into a question.

He hesitates. I stroke my fingers up and down his thighs.

„I'm not sure I can come,“ he says quietly.

„That's okay.“

„You won't be disappointed?“

His gray eyes are unsure.

„Not at all. Just... enjoy yourself, yeah?“

His breath catches and I open his trousers.

He's hard. He's finally fucking hard for me.

„Draco,“ I breathe and his hands grip my shoulder tight enough to bruise.

„Come here,“ I say mindlessly. He's already there, afterall.

I conjure some lube to make sure nothing will hurt in the least and start stroking up and down. It takes a while until his thighs start quivering, until he starts panting and I can feel him getting closer.

„So good for me,“ I tell him and he seems to like it, so I keep whispering praise into his ear while his nails dig into my skin and his hips start moving against me, trying to get more friction.

„Jesus, Draco,“ I say when he lets out a high moan.

All his muscles are tense.

„Right there, love. Right there.“

I don't even know where this is coming from. I usually don't talk during sex. Not when it's not necessary.

But Draco arches his back and tilts his head back, throat exposed.

I almost stop, so enchated by his face. He looks absolutely gorgeous, overcome with pleasure like that. His mouth is hanging open, his brows drawn together, almost as if he was in pain.

„Fuck, you're perfect,“ I say and he comes.

I catch him as he sways forward, our clothes sticky, but I don't care.

I kiss his head and hold him close.

„I love you, Draco. Oh my God, I love you.“

He sighs and wraps his arms tighter around me.

* * *

„Does Pansy drink?“ Harry asks, eyeing the wine aisle undecidedly.

„She does. Red wine is her favorite. But she also really likes tequila.“

„Noted.“

Grocery shopping with Harry can sometimes be stressful. I like to take my time picking out the right items, while Harry usually rushes through everything.

Plus there are so many people around.

I slip my hand into Harry's and pull him toward the alcohol.

„Here. She likes this brand.“

Harry glances at it. I know he has no idea if it's a good or a bad one. His taste in wine is horrible.

„We'll take three of these,“ I decide.

Someone passes us from behind and I flinch. Harry places one hand on my lower back. I think he quite likes that place. I do too.

„Is she more a person for salty or for sweet snacks?“

„Salty.“

I asked Harry yesterday if we could celebrate Pansy's birthday at Grimmauld. As I expected, he thought it was a great idea.

„And there's really no one else you want to invite?“ he asks me.

I give him a slightly annoyed look.

„Who do you think we would like to invite? Our former pimps? Maybe some old clients?“

Harry grimaces and I feel bad.

„Sorry,“ I say quietly.

„My bad.“

But he's not looking at me. I reach up and kiss his cheek. That makes him smile.

„So, are you thinking cheese crackers or crisps?“

I shake my head at him.

„What kind of peasant are you, Potter? Both, of course.“

Pansy looks absolutely stunning in her red dress, delicate high heels and heavy eye makeup.

„Darling,“ she says, grinning at me.

I don't miss the way Weasley is glancing at her as she kisses my cheek.

„You look stunning,“ I compliment her.

„You're not too bad yourself.“

I did make an effort today. It seems to have paid off – Harry almost had a stroke as he saw me in my thin shirt and tight jeans.

„Happy birthday, Pansy.“

I squeeze her for a moment, then let her go. The smile she gives me is sincere.

„Hi, Pansy.“

Granger comes in when Harry returns from the kitchen. The bushy haired Gryffindor seems like she's not entirely sure she's welcome. She glances at Ron.

„Nice to finally meet you, Granger,“ Pansy says.

You don't just go to first name basis with Pansy like that.

„Happy birthday,“ Granger says and hands her a, I have to admit, very nice selection of chocolates.

„You're too nice,“ Pansy says and briefly hugs her.

„Draco.“

Granger seems to be adamant to make nice. I deicide to do Harry a favor and play along.

„You look good, Hermione.“

She does, actually. The black dress suits her – tight, but no cleavage.

Harry grins widely at her and the two of them hug. There is a moment of tension when Weasley and Granger stare at each other.

Then Weasley says: „I'm glad you could make it.“

Granger starts smiling in relief.

„Of course. I hardly ever see you guys anymore.“

Everything starts out a little tense, but after an hour (and two bottles of wine) everyone is slowly relaxing.

Harry sits next to me, holding my hand. Pansy keeps throwing me smirks and I just roll my eyes at her everytime it happens.

Though it is obvious that there is some unfinished business between Weasley and Granger, they make the best of it and are way more friendly than I would have expected. Harry was a bundle of nerves the last three days, just because of this.

We toast to Pansy and I smile at her.

It's nice to have someone that knows you so well. I don't take it for granted. Loving Pansy is more or less what kept me alive during those horrible three years of my life.

„It's so nice that you're here, Draco,“ Granger says as we're all a little tipsy already.

I think she might be drunk.

„I'm glad to be here,“ I say and exchange an amused look with Harry.

„Harry's so happy,“ she says, gazing at him with big eyes and I smirk.

Harry blushes a little.

„Thanks, 'Mione.“

„Do I make you happy, Harry?“ I ask him smugly when the others don't pay us attention anymore.

He rolls his eyes and smiles at his hands.

„You know you do.“

I'm starting to see it.

Most of the time, I still don't understand why Harry sticks with me. I'm complicated. Difficult. A handful. But I also know him better than everyone else.

I just wish I wouldn't make so many things so hard for him.

„You make me happy too,“ I say, then quickly take a sip from my wine glass.

I can feel Harry smiling at me.

„That's good.“

The night progresses and Pansy and Weasley are bickering away and I watch them curiously. So does Granger. She's the first one to leave, but she does so with long hugs and smiles and many Thank Yous.

When Weasley and Pansy finally leave as well, Pansy links arms with him. I raise a brow at her. She shrugs a little, uncertainty in her eyes. Question. I shrug back. Then smile. Whatever makes you happy, I tell her with my eyes.

„That wasn't too bad, was it?“ Harry asks me when we're alone in what I've come to call our bedroom.

„I think Pansy was happy,“ I say.

„Me too.“

Harry smiles. He's in his sweatpants and nothing else.

I love looking at Harry shirtless. He's so... real. Solid. I know his skin is soft. I know it's a little bumpy on his upper back, where he used to have acne. His back is strong and his hips softer than mine, his shoulders broader.

„You coming?“

I crawl into bed next to him, snuggling to his chest.

His hand cards through my hair.

I love that too. I think he knows it. Gently, I press a kiss to his skin.

„I might be too tired for that,“ he says.

„I could work you up,“ I say.

I know I can. I've proved the theory multiple times.

Sometimes, thinking about sex with Harry makes me sad. It's still not as easy as it should be. But we're working on it. It's also pretty wonderful.

Someday, I want him to fuck me. I told him so.

He says he can't wait (except that he can. He always does, with everything).

Until then... let's just say we're very creative.

I trace slow circles with my fingertips. I love touching Harry. Sometimes I can't stop.

„You want to say something?“ Harry asks sleepily.

I take a deep breath. It's not easy. But I know now that I can do things that aren't easy. My life has never been.

I count to ten.

„I love you, Harry.“

I look at his face for his reaction. He's smiling. One fingertip is tracing my nose.

„I know you do.“

„Oh. Good.“

He presses a kiss to my mouth.

„Say it again,“ he says against my lips.

I smile.

„I love you.“

I say it without counting to ten. I don't need to.

Not with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!  
> A big thank you to everyone who's commented and left Kudos.  
> I hope you're all well!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading - Comments and Kudos are oh so appreciated!


End file.
